PN 203 
16 

1832 




A 

NEW LITERAL TRANSLATION 



OF 

LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME; 

FOR THE USE OF 

SCHOOLS, COLLEGES, AND UNIVERSITIES : 

miuntmt's iDitft Bottn, 

ORIGINAL AND SELECT. 

, 

% 

BY 

A GRADUATE OF TRINITY COLLEGE, DUBLIN. 



IloXXot yap aXXorpiio &£o(popyvTac Trvtv^art, 

SEC. XIII. 




NEW-YORK: ^ 
CHARLES S. FRANCIS, 25Q, BROADWAY. 



M DCCC XXXII, 




Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1832, 
By CHARLES S. FRANCIS, 
At the Clerk^s-Office of the Southern District of ^ew- York. 



XEW-YORK : 
WILLIAM PEAHSON, PRINTER, ; 
NO. 60, CLIFF-STREET, 



THOMAS BRADY, Esq., Counsellor-at-Law, 
THIS LITTLE WORK IS DEDICATED, 

AS A SMALL TKIBI TE OF RESPECT : 
Not more 

for his superior attainments, as a Scholar, 

and profound erudition, as a Laivyer, 

THAN FOR 

THE co:n'descension, 

ENCOURAGEMENT, 

AXD 

PATRONAGE, 

so GEXEROUSLT EXTENDED TO 



PREFACE. 



Of all the translations of the great Longinus, 
that by the learned Dean of Chester has obtain- 
ed the most extensive and deserved celebritj^. 

His work is the production of a scholar, and a 
gentleman ; thoroughly conversant with the mag- 
nificent and harmonious language, in which, this 
golden treatise was written, and completely master 
of the manly and expressive language, into which, 
it has been translated. Fully has he entered into 
the spirit of his sublime original, and shly has be 
transfused that spirit, into an English dress. As 
the Rev. translator did not, however, profess — - 
nor would he perhaps stoop — to give a Uteral 
translation, it cannot be denied, that, to the pupil 
at school, the student in college, and. above all, to 
the private learner, Smith's translation. like every 
similar work, affords assistance of a very ques- 
tionable nature. 

A free and an elegant translation may convey 



vi 



PREFACE. 



the essential matter and general sense, but can 
rarely, if ever, give either the exact meaning, or, 
' — what to a young student, is of the highest im- 
portance — the natural collocation and dependence 
of words, in the original. Hence to any of these 
three classes of learners, such a translation is of 
little, or no service : as it requires a more exten- 
sive acquaintance, v;ith the language and con- 
struction, both of the original and the copy, than 
usually falls to the lot of 3'oung persons, to enable 
them to understand the author, through a medium, 
which is often but too brilliant, and, not unfre-. 
quently, too perverted. 

From this consideration, it is evident, that a li- 
teral and, at the same time, a spirited, translation, 
equally removed from the rambling paraphrase of 
a wide, or the vapid baldness of a servile, one, 
must prove an acceptable present, to a very nu- 
merous class of readers in this country 5 where 
the time, allotted for the attainment of classical 
knowledge, is so very limited. It cannot fail to 
strike the most casual observer, that, in a perform- 
ance like the present, there is no room — yion erat 
his locus — for a displaj^ of fine or elaborate senti* 
ments, well rounded periods, or the other ambi- 
tious ornaments of composition. For the poetical 
extracts, quoted by Longinus, the smooth and 
harmonious translation by Pope, or that more re- 
cently by Sotheby, vrould have, no doubt, con- 



PREFACE, 



vii 



ierred additional beauty on the work ; but as fide- 
lity and usefulness are the objects sought, it has 
been determined to clothe them in the less attrac- 
tive, but more really useful, garb of plain prose : 
retaining, as far as possible, the exact number of 
words, in each line, as exhibited in the text. 

Smith's excellent translation— indispensable to 
every lover of elegant literature — will furnish 
poetical versions, not only of these extracts, but 
numberless beautiful parallel quotations, frpm the 
sacred Scriptures, Shakspeare, Milton, and others. 
A few original notes have, after much delibera- 
tion, been, with every due deference, thrown in, 
at the end of the volume. It is hoped, they may 
not prove altogether unworthy of the illustrious 
names, who have, in every age, since the revival 
of learning, devoted their talents to the study and 
explanation of this golden treatise. The remain- 
ing notes, although not numerous, are select : 
freely taken from every source, to which the com- 
piler could have access. Wherever Smith's, or 
any other translation, seemed capable of adapta- 
tion to his purpose, the present translator has in- 
corporated it with his text. This assistance has 
however been found much less available than 
might be imagined. The admission should never- 
theless secure him, from the charge of conscious 
plagiarism. He now commits his little work to 
the generous patronage of those, for whom, it has 



Viii PHEFACE. 

been specially intended ; — -the youth of the Unit- 
ed States ; — happy, if he could say, with the great 
Roman Lyrist — 

* * * * Ut omnes 

Visuros peccata piitem. Tutus et intra 
Spem venicB cautus, vitavi denique culpam, 
Non laudem mend. 



New York, Oct. 1832, 



CONTENTS. 



SECTION I. Page. 

That Cecilius's Treatise on the Sublime is imperfect, 
and why, 1 

SECTION II. 

Whether the Sublime can be learned, . . - - 3 

SECTION III. 
Of Bomba?t. Puerility, and Parenthyrse, ... 4 

SECTION IV. 
Of the Frigid, - - 6 

SECTION V. 

Whence these imperfections take their rise, - - 8 

SECTION VI. 
That a knowledge of the true Sublime is attainable, - 9 

SECTION VII. 
How the Sublime may be known, - - . . 9 

SECTION VIII, 
That there are five Sources of the Sublime, - - - 11 

SECTION IX. 

Of Elevation of Thought, 12 



X 



CONTENTS* 



SECTION X. Page. 

That a choice and connexion of proper circumstances 
will produce the Sublime, - - - - - - 18 

SECTION XI. 

Of Amplification, - - - - - - - - 21 

SECTION XII. 

That the definition, which the writers of Rhetoric give 
of Amplification, is improper, - - - - - 21 

SECTION XIII. 
Of Plato's Sublimity and Imitation, - - - - 23 

SECTION XIV. 
That the best authors ought to be our models in writing, 25 

SECTION XV. 
Of Images, 26 

SECTION XVI. 
Of Figures, - - - - . - - - - 30 

SECTION XVII. 
That Figure^ and Sublimity mutually assist one another, 32 

SECTION XVIII. 
Of Question and Interrogation, - - - ^ . 33 

SECTION XIX. 
Of Asyndetons, - , - 34 

SECTION XX. 
Of heaps of Figures, , . . . ... 35 

SECTION XXI. 
That copulatives weaken the style, . - - - .36 
SECTION XXII. 
/ OfHyperbatons, - - . - - - . ,37 



CONTENTS. 



xi 



SECTION XXIII. Page. 
Of change of number, ------- 39 

SECTION XXIV. 
That singulars sometimes cause Sublimity, - - - 40 

SECTION XXV. 
Of change of Tense, - - - - - - - 41 

SECTION XXVI. 
Of change of Person, 41 

SECTION XXVII. 
Of another change of Person, - - - - - 42 

SECTION XXVIII. 
Of Periphrasis or Circumlocution, - - - ^44 

SECTION XXIX. 
That Circumlocution carried too far, grows insipid, - 45 

SECTION XXX. 
Of choice of Terms, 45 

SECTION XXXI. 
Of vulgar Terms, 46 

SECTION XXXII. 

Of a multitude of Metaphors, ... - - 47 

SECTION XXXIII. 

That the Sublime, with some Faults, is better than what 
is correct and faultless, Vv ithout being Sublime, - 50 

SECTION XXXIV. 

By the preceding rule, Demosthenes and Hyperides are 
compared, and the preference given to the former, - 52 

SECTION XXXV. 

That Plato is, in all respects, superior to Lysias ; and in 
general, that whatever is great and uncommon soonest 
raises admiration, 54 



xii 



CONTENTS. 



SECTION XXXVI. Page. 

Sublime writers considered in a parallel view, - . 55 

SECTION XXXVII. 

Of similes and comparisons, - - - . - 57 

SECTION XXXVIII. 
Of Hyperboles, - - 57 

SECTION XXXIX. 

Of composition, or structure of words, - - - 59 

SECTION XL. 

Of apt connexion of the constituent parts of discourse, 61 

SECTION XLI * 

That broken and precipitate measures, debase the Sub- 
lime. That v/ords of short syllables are prejudicial to 
the Sublime, 63 

SECTION XLII. 
That contraction of style diminishes the Sublime, - 63 

SECTION XLIII. 
That low terms degrade Sublimity, - - - - G4 

SECTION XLIV. 
The scarcity of sublime writers accounted for, - - 66 



* The reader will please to insert, with a pen, at page 63., 
the heading of this section ; which had been accidently omit- 
ted, in some of the copies first worked off. 



LONGINUS 

ox THE 

SUBLIME. 



SECTION I. 

The short treatise, which Ceciiius composed on the 
sublime, appeared to us, when reading it attentively 
together, (as you may recollect, my dear Terentianus,) 
every where too mean for the subject, and, by no 
means, attaining to the requisite things ; nor afford- 
ing much advantage to the readers ; which ought to be 
the principal aim of a writer. Besides, two things 
being required,* in every treatise, on an art; the first 
to explain what the subject is ; the second, in order, 
but, in excellence, the first(a)f to tell how. and by what 
means, this very thing may be acquired by us : Ceci- 
iius, however, by innumerable examples, endeavors 
to explain to us, as if ignorant of it, what the sublime 
is ; but this, viz, by what means we might be enabled 
to advance our natural powers to some progress in 
the sublime, he has unaccountably omitted as unne^. 
cessary. Perhaps, however, it is not as fair to blame 

* i. €. are required. 

t For the notes on each section, see the end of the volume. 
2 



2 LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 

this writer, for his omissions, as to praise him for his 
reflection and diligence. {h) Since you have ordered me 
to write a commentary on the subHme, solely on your 
account, come let us try, if we appear to have made 
any reflections useful to men conversant (c) in pub- 
lic afl^airs. But you, my friend, shall pass the truest 
judgment on each part ; (as you are calculated by 
nature to do, and as it is fit you should ;) for well did 
that philosopher, who declared what we had resem- 
bling the gods, say, it was " beneficence and truth." 
But when writing to you, my dear friend, so well 
versed in literature, I am almost freed from the ne- 
cessity of premising, in many words, that the sublime 
is something excellent, and perfect in writing ; and 
that both the greatest poets and prose waiters attain- 
ed their eminence, by no other way than this, and 
made their praises immortal. For the sublime does 
not lead the audience to conviction, but to extacy ; 
and, on the whole, the wonderful, by astonishing the 
mind is always superior to that formed only to per- 
suade, or to please : since the persuasive, for the most 
part, depends on ourselves, bat this, bringing with it 
power and strength irresistible, gains the ascendant 
over every hearer. 

Besides, we see the skill of invention and the pro- 
per arrangement and disposition of facts displayed, 
not by one or two expressions, but scarcely by the 
whok texture of the discourse ; while the sublime sea- 
sonably sent forth, has borne down{cZ) all things, like 
a thunder- bolt, and has shown, at one blow, the con- 
densed powers of the orator* 



LOXGIXrS ox THE SUBLIME. 



3 



I am, I say, almost freed from the necessity of pre- 
mising all this to you, my dear Terentianus, for these 
and such Hke observations, you could, I am persuad- 
ed, suggest to others, from your own experience. 



SECTION II. 

But this is first to be inquired into by us, whether 
or not there is any art in the subHme or deep ; since 
some think that those, who reduce such things to the 
rules of art, are quite deceived. " For the sublime," 
such an objector says, '-is the gift of nature, and can- 
not be acquired (a) by instruction," and there is but 
one art for it, to be born with the talent," and "the 
works of nature," as they imagine, become worse, 
and, in every respect, inferior, when parched up by 
the rules of art ;" but I affirm that this can be proved 
to be otherwise, (h) if any one would consider, that 
though nature has a discretionary power, in the pa- 
thetic and elevated, she does not wish to be, in any re- 
spect, rash and altogether void of method ; and,— that 
although, she is the first and grand origin of the exist- 
ence of the sublime in all, yet method is able to determine 
its quantity, and the proper time for eacJi instance of it, 
and still more to point out the safest exercise and use 
of it ; and, — that the sublime is more liable to danger, 
when by itself, left without management, unsteady, 
and unbalanced ; abandoned to its own impetuosity 
and ill directed boldness ; (c) for, as it has often occa- 
sion for the spur, so it has also for the rein. For 



4 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



what Demosthenes asserts about common Hfe, " that 
good fortune is the greatest advantage, but next, and 
no less important, is prudence, which completely 
takes with it, even the benefit of the other, from those, 
with whom it is not present : " this we could also 
affirm of composition, that nature supplies the place 
of fortune, but art, that of prudence. 

This fact also, (and it is of the greatest weight,) 
viz. that there are some things, in writing, which de- 
pend on nature alone, we must learn from no other 
source, than art. If, as I said, he, who censures those 
learning useful precepts, would consider those things 
separately, he would no longer, as it seems to me, 
suppose a few thoughts on the subject, superfluous or 
useless. 



SECTION III. (a) 

And let them check the tapering blaze of their hearth, 

For, if I shall only see one householder, 

Sending one curl of flame, with the strength of a torrent, 

I'll set fire to the house, and reduce it to ashes. 

But I have, by no means, sung a generous song. 

These are not tragical, but super-tragical, curls," 
and " to vomit forth to heaven ;" and making Boreas 
a piper, {h) and the other things which follow. 

For they are obscured by the expression, and con- 
fused by the images, rather than rendered forcible ; 
and if you would examine each of them by the light, 
from the terrible, it gradually sinks into the despicable. 

But, since in tragedy, a thing naturally grand and 



LONGIXUS OX THE SUBLI^Ii:. 



5 



admitting pompous expression, ■ such immoderate 
swelling is unpardonable, it can, with great difficulty^ 
I imagine, suit compositions, founded on truth. 

On this account, the expressions of the Leontine 
Gorgias are ridiculed, who wrote Xerxes, the Jupi- 
ter of the Persians,'' and Vultures living sepul- 
chres and some in the writings of Callisthenes, 
which are not sublime, but glaring, or turgid; and 
still more those of Ciitarchus, for he is a puffy, or 
hlustering, writer, and blowing, according to Sopho- 
cles, '-with no small pipes:" (d) but destitute-of 
mouth piece, (e) 

The writings of x\mphicrates, Hegesias, and Ma- 
tris, are of this description ; for often appearing to 
themselves to be inspired, they are not influenced by 
a god, but by folly. But, on the whole, this swelling 
style seems to be amongst the faults most difficult to 
guard against, for all those, who affi3Ct sublimity, and 
shun the imputation of a weak and dry style are, I 
know^ not how, naturally hurried into this, mindful of 
the old saying, ''to fail in great attempts is however 
a noble failing {/) but those empty and false 
tumors, both in the human body and in writings, are 
baneful, and tee should he on our guard, lest they lead us 
round to the opposite extreme : " for nothing is," (they 
say,) " more dry, or t'liirsty, than a man afflicted with 
the dropsy." {g) This swelling style, however, Welshes 
to surpass the sublime ; the puerile, on the contrary^ 
is quite opposite to the sublime — for it is altogether a 
low, mean, and in truth, a most ignoble fault. What 
then is this puerile style ? It is manifestly {h) a 



6 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



scholastic thought, degenerating into the frigid, 
through a scrupulous unnecessary exactness. But 
those writers, aiming at the neat, exact, and, above 
all, at the agreeable, most commonly fall into this style; 
stumbling upon low and vicious affectation, (f) 

Akin to this, is a third sort of imperfection in the 
pathetic, which Theodorus used to call the Paren- 
thyrse ; ( j) it is an unseasonable and useless exciting 
of the passions, where there is no occasion for it, 
or immoderate exciting, where there is need of a mo- 
derate one. Some writers are often, as if intoxicated, 
hurried into passions, in no way connected with their 
subject, but peculiar to themselves, and scholastic ; 
they are then ridiculous in the eyes of their auditors, 
who are by no means affected ; — and justly, — falling 
into transports in the presence of those, who are un- 
moved ; — but another place is reserved by us to treat 
of the pathetic. 



SECTIOX IV. 

Of one of the faults, which I mentioned, (I mean the 
frigid,) Timseus is full ; a man, in other respects, ex- 
cellent, not destitute of the sublime, learned and re- 
flecting ; but too fond of censuring the faults of others, 
and blind to his own ; and often, through a fondness for 
always starting new thoughts, falling into the childish. 
I will produce but one or two examples, from this 
writer, since Cecilius has, hefore me, given several. 
Praising Alexander the Great, he says, " Who overran 
the entire of Asia, in fewer years, than Isocrates wrote 



LOXGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



7 



his panegyric on the war agamst the Persians." Here 
is a rare comparison of the (a) Macedonian with a 
sophist. It is manifest at this rate, Timseus, (b) that 
the Lacedemonians were left far behind in vigor, by 
Isocrates, since they took Messene in thirty years, and 
he composed his panegyric, in ten only. But how does 
he exclaim against the Athenians, taken in Sicily"? 

Because they acted with impiety towards Hermes, and 
mutilated his statues, on account of this, they suffered 
punishment ; and, what is not the least extraordinary, 
through one man, who w^as paternally descended from 
the injured deity, — Hermocrates, son of Hermon". 
So that I w^onder, my dear Terentianus, why he does 
not w'rite against the tyrant Dionysius, ''since he be- 
haved with irreverence toDia (Jupiter) and Hercules ; 
for this, Dion and Heraclides deprived him of his 
pov/er." And why need 1 speak of Timseus, since 
even these heroes, in writing, (I mean Xenophon and 
Plato,) though of the school of Socrates, yet through 
a fondness for those low conceits, sometimes for- 
get themselves? — the one in his description of the po- 
lity of the Lacedemonians, wu'ites thus : " You could 
sooner hear the voice of stone statues, than theirs, or 
sooner turn aside the eyes of brazen ones : you would 
think them more modest even than the virgins in their 
eyes." It might become an Amphicrates, not a Xeno- 
phon, to call the pupils in our eyes modest virgins. But 
O Hercules ! what a monstrous thing it was, to be 
persuaded, that the pupils of all, without distinction, are 
modest, when it is a common saying, that the impu- 
dence of some persons is indicated by nothing, so much 



8 



LOXGIXUS OX THE SUBLmE. 



as by the eyes. Homer calls an impudent man^ 
" Drunkard ! thou dog in eye." Timaeus, as if meet- 
ing with something worth stealing, could not pass this 
frigid expression in Xenophon ; therefore, speaking of 
Agathocles, he says even this, ^' That he forcibly took 
and went off with his own cousin, given in marriage to 
another, after the ceremony of unveiling ; which 
crime, could any one commit, who had virgins, not 
harlots in his eyes?" But, what ! the great Plato, in 
some things so divine, when he would speak of books, 
says, " When they have written, they will deposit 
their cypress monuments in temples and again, 
" With respect to walls, Megilius, I would agree, in 
opinion, with Sparta, viz. to permit the walls to sleep 
reclined on the ground, and not to rouse them." And 
this expression of Herodotus is not far from the frigid, 
when he calls ^* beautiful ^\^men, the pains of the eye." 
Although it has some excuse, for those who say so, 
in his history, are barbarians and intoxicated : but it is 
not proper, even in such characters, to be ridiculous in 
the sight of posterity, for a pitiful conceit. 



SECTION Y. 

All these improprieties are produced, in writings, or 
composition, by one cause, — " a fondness for novelty 
in the thoughts," (about which, the v/riters of the pie- 
sent day are especially infatuated,) for our imperfec- 
tions are wont to proceed nearly from the same source, 
whence spring our excellencies ; thus, beauties of ex- 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



9 



pression, and sublimity, besides a delicate and pleas- 
ing style, contribute to the perfection of writing ; and 
those very things, as they are the cause of success, so 
they are the origin and foundation of the contrary : 
such, for instance, are hyperboles and plurals. But 
we shall point out, in a Subsequent part of tins treatise, 
the danger which they seem to have. Therefore, it 
is now necessary to inquire and determine, by what 
means, we may be able to avoid the faults, inter- 
mingled with {a) the sublime. 



SECTION VI. 

These, my friend, are the means ; — to procure, (a) 
above all things, a clear knowledge and discern- 
ment of the true sublime : although it is a thing hard 
to be acquired, for the power of judging compositions 
is the last fruit of much experience ; not but that (to 
speak in precept) (h) it may be possible to acquire 
this discernment, from these rules. 



SECTION VII. 

This, you must be assured of, my dearest friend, 
that, as, even in common Hfe, nothing is great, which 
it is noble to despise. Thus, for instance, riches, ho- 
nor, glory, power, and as many other things, as have 
much external pomp, cannot appear to a wise man, ex- 
traordinary blessings ; since the very act of despising 
them is no trivial blessing ; and, therefore, men admire 



10 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



those, who are able to possess them^ and, yet through a 
nobleness of soul, despising them, more than those, 
in actual possession, (a) Thus also, we must take 
care, in examining the sublime, in poetry, and writing 
in general, lest any should have such an appearance 
of sublimity, (to which much is joined, that is uselessly 
annexed,) but when unfolded, they may be found to 
be only an empty tumor, (Z>) which it is more gene- 
rous, or nolle, to despise than admire. For our mind 
is, in a manner, naturally transported by the true sub- 
lime, and receiving a proud elevation, is filled with joy 
and a sense of self-importance, as if itself produced, 
what it only heard. When, therefore, any thing often 
heard, by a man of judgment and experience in writ- 
ing, does not dispose his soul to generous thoughts, 
and leave in his mind m-ore to be conceived, than has 
been expressed, but sinks to what is diminutive, if you 
frequently examine it j that cannot be the true sublime, 
being only retained whilst listened to. For this is, in 
reality, the sublime, which leaves much to be conceiv- 
ed, and to resist which is difficult, or rather impos- 
sible ; but the recollection of it remains lively and hard 
to be effaced. 

On the whole, be assured that is the proper and true 
sublime, which pleases, at all times, and all persons, 
for when one and the same opinion is delivered on the 
same compositions, by persons of different professions, 
lives, pursuits, ages, and languages, (c) then this deci- 
sion, {d) (as it were) and agreement of things so dis- 
cordant, stamp a high and indisputable value on the 
admired performance. 



LONGINUS OX THE SUBLIME, 



11 



SECTION VIII. 

There are, as one may say, five most fruitful 
sources of the sublime ; (the faculty of speaking well 
— without which nothing is of the least use — being 
previously established, as a common foundation for 
those five sorts ;) the first, and most excellent, is a 
happy boldness in the thoughts, as we have shown in 
our treatise on Xenophon. The second, a vehement 
and enthusiastic passion ; now those two constituents 
of the sublime are, for the most part, implanted by na- 
ture, but the rest come from art. The third, a certain 
forming of figures (those may be two-fold, the one of 
thought, (a) the other of language,) Besides, the 
fourtli, an elegant mode of expression, which may also 
be divided into a judicious selection of words, and a 
language filled with tropes, and laboured, (h) But the 
fifth source of the sublime, which gives the finish to 
all, that went before, is the power of composing, in a 
dignified and elevated manner. Come now, let us 
examine the things, comprehended in each sort ; pre- 
facing this, that there are some of those five parts, 
which Cecilius has omitted ; as, for instance, about the 
passions. But if both those things, viz. the sublime 
and the pathetic, were considered by him as one, and 
seemed to him, to co-exist and spring up together, he 
is mistaken : for some passions are found distinct from 
the sublime, even of a low nature, as lamentation, grief, 
fear ; and, on the other hand, there are many sublime 
passages, that do not excite our passions — as (with 



12 



LOXGIXrS ON THE SUBLIME. 



innumerable other examples) those bold expressions of 
the poet, concerning the sons of Aloeus : 

Ossa on Olympus, they strove to place ; and on Ossa, 
The leaf-shaking Pelion, that Heaven might be scaleable. 

and that which is added, is still bolder; and now in- 
deed, they had' succeeded," &:c. &c. With orators, 
to be sure, encomiums, and those writings composed 
for pomp and show, completely embrace the subHme, 
(c) and are, for the most part, destitute of the pathetic : 
whence those orators, who wish to excite our passions 
are, by no means, fond of panegyric ; and, on the other 
hand, those who are panegyrists, fail in exciting the 
passions. But if again, Cecilius did not think that the 
pathetic ever contributed to the sublime, and, on this 
account, did not think it worthy of being mentioned, 
he is quite in error. For I would confidently deter- 
mine, that nothing is so sublime, as a proper pathos, 
seasonably applied, with a certain madness, or plirenzy^ 
and enthusiastic spirit, as it were, breathing-into and 
inspiring the words. 



SECTION IX. 

But since the first (I mean natural sublimity of 
thought) holds the chief place, we ought even here, 
(though it is the gift of nature, rather than a quality 
to be acquired,) still educate our souls to sublimity, as 
far as possible, and make them, as it were, pregnant 
with some noble elevation. In what way ? will some 
one ask, I have said, in another place, that such sub- 



LOXGIXrS ox THE SUBLDIE. 



13 



limit}' is the echo of a noble mind ; whence even with- 
out words, a naked thought by itself, is sometimes ad- 
mired, on account of that greatness of soul : such as 
the silence of Ajax, in the descent into Hell, (a) is 
grand, and more sublime, than any expression. First 
then, it is absolutely necessary, to lay down the source 
from which it is derived ; namely, that a true orator 
ought not to have mean or ungenerous thoughts. For 
it is not possible, that those, who during their whole 
lives, think of and pursue low and servile things, could 
produce any thing surprising, and w^orth the attention 
of all ages. But the expressions of those are neces- 
sarily grand, whose thoughts are weighty and import- 
ant ; thus the sublime falls to the lot of these of the 
most exalted minds. For when Parmenio said, " I 
would be content, icith the conditions^ if I were Alex- 
ander," the reply, Vv-hich Alexander made, And 
truly would I, were I Parmenio," shows his greatness 
of mind : and thus also the distance, from earth to 
heaven, bounds — or marks — the sublimity of Homer's 
genius in this description of discord. — She fixed her 
head in the heavens, and stalks on the ground;" any 
one may justly say, that is not more the measure of 
Discoi'd than of Homer ; which Hesiod's description of 
Melancholy is very unlike — if we are to conclude the 
shield is Hesiod's : " From her nostrils, moisture flow- 
ed";" — for he has not made the image terrific, but 
loathsome. But how sublime, Homer renders his 
description of the gods — 



3 



14 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



As much of the horizon, as a man sees with his eyes, 
Sitting on some place of observation, looking over the black 
sea. 

So much, do the loud resounding horses of the gods take in a 
bound. 

Their bound, he measures, by the limit of the world. 
Who then might not justly say, on account of the ex- 
cessive sublimity of this passage, that if the horses of 
the gods took two successive bounds, they could not 
find a landing place in the v/orld ? The images intro- 
duced in the combat of the gods, are also exceedingly 
sublime : 

But the great heaven and Olympus thundered all around, (5) 
And benea^th, Pluto, king of the infernal regions, feared ; 
And fearing, started from his throne and shouted, lest next, (c) 
The earth-shaking Neptune should burst-asunder the earth, 
And ^25 habitations should appear to mortals and immortals, 
Terrible, squalid, which even the Gods abhor. 

You see, my friend, how the earth being torn from 
its foundation, and Tartarus itself exposed to view, the 
whole world being upturned and destroyed, all things 
together, heaven and hell, things mortal and immortal, 
engage in, and share the danger of the battle, which 
then took place ; [d) but those expressions, so bold' in- 
deed, unless they are taken in an allegorical sense, 
are downright impious and do not preserve due deco- 
rum. Homer, indeed, appears to me, in describing 
the wounds of the gods, their seditions, revenge, tearSj 
chains, and sufferings of all sorts, to have made the 
men, concerned in the Trojan war, gods, as far as was 
in his power, but the gods, men ; but with this differ- 
ence, that death is reserved for us, when unhappy, 



LOXGIXrS ON THE SUBLOIE. 



15 



as the port to shelter us from our misfortunes ; but he 
has made not only the nature, bat the unhappuiess of 
the gods, eternal. Much better than this description 
of the combat of the gods, are those verses, which re- 
present the deity as he really is, undefiied, great, and 
pure : such are these on Neptune, (this passage has 
been treated of, by many before me,) 
^ * * * The vast mountains trembled, both the wood, 
And the summits, the city of the Trojans, and the ships of the 
Greeks, 

Under the immortal feet of Xeptune, as he went along ; 

He proceeded to drive over the waves, but the whales exulted 
beneath him, ' ' > 

In every direction, from their retreats ; nor were they incog- 
nizant of their king. 

Through joy, the sea was disparted, but the horses were fly- 
ing, &c. &c. 

Thus also, the lawgiver of the Jews, no ordinary 
person, (e) after having formed a conception of the 
power of the deity, suited to his dignity, has 7ioiIy ex- 
pressed it, writing immediately in the commencement 
of his laws— God said," says he, " what ?" " let 
there be light, and there was ; let the earth be and it 
was." {f) Perhaps, my friend, I v/ould not appear 
troublesome, producing one more passage, from the 
poet, about the affairs of men, that you may learn how 
he is accustomed to mount with them to heroic gran- 
deur. Suddenly darkness and sluggish * night, as he 
tells us, restrains the com.bat of the Greeks ; here 
Ajax, perplexed and doubting, says 

O Father Jove, at least, deliver the sons of the Greeks, from 
this darkness ; 



^ Embarrassing or perplexing. 



16 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLmE. 



Make a serene sky, and allow us to see with our eyes ; 
And even destroy us, but in the light. 

This is, in truth, the passion of an Ajax : for he 
does not pray to live, (for that would he a petition be- 
neath a hero,) but since in sluggish * darkness, he 
could use his valor, in no illustrious exploit, on that 
account indignant, that he was useless in the fight, 
he prays for light as soon as possible ; determined to 
find a death, worthy of his valor, even though Jove 
himself should oppose him. Homer here, like a pros- 
perous breeze inspires and animates the combats, and 
feels the very passions of his heroes ; or, as he says of 
Hector : 

He rages, as when the spear-brandishing Mars, or destructive 
fire 

Rages on the mountains, in the thick recesses of an extensive 
wood. 

But there is a foam about his mouth, &c. &c. 
Yet he shows in his Odyssey, (as I must add those obser- 
vations, for many reasons) that in its old age, a fond- 
ness for the fabulous, is peculiar to a great genius de- 
chning. It is manifest, he composed this piece last, 
from many other circumstances, as well as this, that 
he has introduced the sequel of those calamities, begun 
at Troy, in his Odyssey, as episodes to the Trojan 
war ; and from his mentioning lamentation and grief, 
as before well known to his heroes ; for the Odyssey 
is nothing but an epilogue to the IHad : 

There lies the warlike Ajax, and there Achilles, 
There Patroclus, equal to the gods in counsel. 
And there too, my dear son, &c. &c. 
From the same cause I think, it is, that he made the 



* Act-impeding, action-preventing. 



LOXGIXrS ON THE SUBLHIE. 



17 



whole body of the Ihad, which was w^ritten in the 

vigor of his genius, full of action and spirited ; that of 

the Odyssey, for the most part, full of narration^ which 

is the characteristic of old age. Wherefore, a per= 

son may compare Homer, in the Odyssey, to the set- 

ting sun, whose greatness remains, without his intense 

heat : for in this, he no longer preserves that stretch 

of thought, which appears in his lUad, nor that equal 

and unremitting sublimity, nor a like profusion of 

passions, crowded one upon another, nor that versa- 

tile (h) and vehement, forcible style, replete with 

images drawn from life : the ebbings of his sublime 

genius appear, even in those fabulous and incredible 

wanderings, as of the ocean, when it retires within itself 

and deserts its proper limits, (z) But though speak» 

ing thus, I do not forget those storms described in the . 

Odyssey, and the description of the Cyclops, and 

some other passages : but I call these, old age, the 

old age (j) however of Homer. But hi all and each 

of these, there is still more narrative than action. I 

have made this digression, as I said, to show how very 

easily, subhme geniuses fall into trifles, in the decline 

of their vigor. Of this kind is what he says of the 

bag, and those fed in the form of swine by Circe, 

(whom Zoilus calls " squeaking pigs,") and Jupiter, 

fed by doves, like one of their young, and the person, 

that took no sustenance, for ten days in a shipwreck, 

and those incredible stories, about the death of the 

suitors ; what else can we call those, than in reality, 

the dreams of Jove 1 But for a second reason, those 

remarks on the Odyssey were made : that it may be 
3* 



18 



LOXGITS'US ON THE SUBLIME. 



known to you, how a want of power to excite the pas- 
sions, in great prose writers and poets, dwindles into 
a description of manners ; for such things as his moral 
description of the suitors' lives, in speaking of the 
house of Ulysses, are a kind of comedy, describing the 
characters of men. 



SECTION X. 

Come now, let us see, if we have any other thing, 
that can render writing sublime : since then some par- 
ticulars are naturally united to all things, originating 
with the matter itself, it would of necessity be a cause 
of the sublime, to select always, the principal of those 
which offer, and be. able to form them, by connecting 
them with each other, into one body. (For subhmjlty 
t attracts the audience, partly by a selection of the prin- 
cipal circumstances, and partly by crowding them to- 
gether, when judiciously selected.) 

Thus Sappho, from all sides, collects the passions, 
which accompany the frenzy of love, from attendant 
circumstances, and nature itself : but where does she 
show her chief excellence ? In being skilful enough 
both to choose and connect with each other, the prin- 
cipal and most sublime of them— 

That man appears to me, to be equal to the gods, who sits 

opposite to you. 
And near hears you sweetly speaking ; you smile too most 

enchantingly ; 

It was this, that made my heart beat in my breast ; for when 
I behold you, my voice quickly leaves me ; my tongue indeed 
falters, 



LONGINUS Oy THE SUBLI3IE. 



19 



A subtle flame runs quickly through my veins ; I see nothing 
with 

My eyes; my ears ring ; a cold sweat is poured forth ; a trem- 
bling seizes 

My whole frame, I become paler than grass ; I seem not to 
be far 

Distant from death. Every thing however must be tried, since 
the poor, &c. &:c. 
Do you not admire how, at the same time, she seeks 
after soul, body, ears, tongue, color, everything, vanish- 
ing, as if distinct from herself ? and by the most opposite 
changes, she chills, she burns, she raves, she reasons, 
she is either out of her wits, or dying away : that no one 
passion may appear in her, but an assemblage of con- 
flicting passions, (c) All such things happen to lovers^ 
but the choice (as I said) of the principal circumstances, 
and of uniting them together, has formed the sublimity 
of this ode. In the same manner, I think, in describ- 
ing tempests, the poet selects the most terrific circum- 
stances. Indeed he, who composed the poe??i called 
the Arimaspians, thinks these verses sublime. 
This is a subject of great surprise to my mind. 
How men dwell on the waters of the sea, at a distance from 
land ; (d) 

They are some unhappy beings, for they endure dreadful 
hardships. 

They have their eyes on the stars, but their thoughts on the 
sea. 

Full often raising their hands to the gods. 

They pray, while their bowels are dreadfully disgorged. 

It is manifest, I think, to every reader, that those 
expressions are more flowery than terrific ; {e) but how 
does Homer describe this ? let one example be produced 
from many — 



20 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



He fell upon them, as when a wave falls on a fast sailing ship, 
Impetuous from the clouds, swollen by the winds ; it is all 
over 

Covered with spray, and dreadful, the storm 

Roars against the mast : the sailors tremble, in their souls 

Terrified : for little are they separated from death. (/) 

This last, Aratus attempted to transfer " A slender 
plank preserves them, from their fate;" (g) but he has 
made it poor and refined, instead of terrible ; and, be- 
sides, he has fixed the limits of the danger, saying, 
" A plank wards ofi* destruction but the poet does 
not once define the danger, but represents them as in 
a picture, always and almost on every wave, dying a 
thousand deaths, and by forcibly joining, contrary to 
their nature, prepositions which cannot be united, and 
violently heaping them on each other — 'jtt, h Sravaroio 
— he has offered a violence to his verse expressive of 
the falling storm, and has exquisitely portrayed their 
suffering, by the torture of his verse, and almost 
stamped the peculiarity of their danger on the words 
u-Tf, sx, &c. &c. Just so Archilochus in the ship- 
wreck, and Demosthenes in his account of the ill news. 
" For it was evening," says he. Culling (as one may 
say) the chief circumstances, according to their excel- 
lence, they connected them inserting nothing flimsy, 
low, or scholastic. For these, like rubbish and chinks 
entirely disfigure those things, which when disposed 
together, and supported by this connection, with each 
other, constitute the sublime, (h) 



I-ONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



21 



SECTION XI. 

There is an excellence, bordering on those, which 
have been treated of, and which they call AmpHfica" 
tion : when (the subjects on which we write, or the 
causes, (a) which we plead, admitting many beginnings 
and pauses in the periods) great incidents heaped one 
upon another, continually rise by a regular ascent : 
but whether this happens in a common place, or exag» 
geration, or corroboration of arguments, or the dis^ 
position of actions or passions, (for there may be in- 
numerable ways of amplification) the orator must be as- 
sured, that none of those things can be perfect in itself; 
without the sublime ; except, for instance, in exciting 
pity, (b) or making things appear vile. But if you 
should take the subUme, from any of the other things 
admitting amplification, you would separate, as it were, 
the soul from the body : for immediately their energy 
loses its tone and languishes, when unsupported by the 
sublime. How the subject of the present precepts dif» 
fers from what has been just said, (for that was a cer- 
tain delineation of the chief circumstances, and brings 
ing them together,) and how the subhme, in general, 
differs from amplification, we must, in a few words^ 
explain for sake of perspicuity. 



SECTION XII. . . 

The definition of writers on rhetoric, does not please 
me ; AmpUfication is," say they, a form of words 



22 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



investing its subject with grandeur." For this indeed 
can be the common definition of sublimity, the pas- 
sions and tropes ; since those also give the subject, a 
certain character of grandeur. But those things ap- 
pear to me to differ in this, from each other; the sublime 
consists in elevation, amplification, in number, whence 
the former often appears even in one thought, but the 
latter always in a quantity and abundance of thoughts. 
Amplification is (to give an accurate definition) a com- 
plete connexion {u) of all the circumstances and topics, 
inherent therein ; strengthening the subject, by dwel- 
ling on it : in this differing from proof, that the one 
demonstrates the object of enquiry (<^) ***** 
Plato, like some sea, is most copiously spread out in 
every direction to a vast extent. Whence I think the 
orator addressing himself more to the passions, has, 
as is natural, (c) much fire and passionate ardor ; 
whilst the other possessing an elevation of style and 
majestic gravity, is never cold, but has not that thun- 
dering force. 

In no other way than this, as it seems to me, my 
dear Terentianus, (if I say, it is permitted us, as Greeks 
to know any thing of Latin ivriters,) does Cicero also 
differ from Demosthenes in sublimity ; the latter ge- 
nerally abounds in concise sublimity, Cicero, in dif- 
fuse ; our orator, on account of his destroying, and, 
as it were, consuming every thing, by his violence, 
rapidity, strength, and vehemence, may be compared 
to a hurricane or thunderbolt. But Cicero, in my 
opinion, as some wide-extended conflagration, feeds in 
every direction, and rolls along, having a flame, great 



LOXGIXrS ox THE SUBLI3IE. 



23 



and constant, distributed through him, in different 
ways, and nourished by successive supplies. You can 
however judge of those things better than I. 

But the proper season for the elevated sublime of 
Demosthenes is in exaggerations and violent passions ; 
and where it is altogether necessary to terrify your 
hearer : but for the diffusive style, where it is neces- 
sary to sooth (fZ) him ; for it is adapted to common 
place arguments, and in general to perorations, and 
digressions, narrative and showy pieces, descriptions 
of the works of nature (e) and several other sorts. 



SECTIOX XIII. 

You, who have read his republic, cannot but know- 
Plato's style (for I return to him) {a) that though he 
flows, w^ith a noiseless diffusive current, he is never- 
theless sublime. " Who," says he, " unacquainted 
with wisdom and virtue, and always engaged in re- 
vels and pleasures of this sort, sink dow^nward, as is 
just, and stray through life. But they never look 
up to truth, or rise from their sunk condition, or taste 
solid and pure pleasure ; but, like brutes, always look- 
ing down, and bending to the earth, and their tables, 
they glut themselves with luxury and excess ; and, 
from their passion for such things, kicking and butting 
with hoofs and horns of steel, they destroy each other, 
on account of their insatiable desires." This writer, 
if we will not neglect him, shows us, that another way 



24 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



also leads to the sublime, besides those already men*> 
tioned. What is its nature, and what is it ? An imita- 
tion and emulation of the great prose writers and 
poets of former days. 

And this object, my dear friend, we should per- 
severingly keep in view- ; for many are inspired, by a 
spirit not their own : in the same manner, that it is 
reported the Pythian prophetess, when she approaches 
the tripod, (where there is a cavity in the earth, which, 
they say, breathes forth a divine vapor,) being thence 
impregnated by the power of the god, immediately de- 
livers oracles, by inspiration : thus, from the sublimi- 
ty of the ancients, some fine effluvia are borne to the 
souls of those, who imitate them, as from sacred vents, 
by which, even those, who are not naturally subject 
to this divine frenzy, being inspired, are excited by 
the spirit of others. Was Herodotus alone a great 
imitator of Homer ? Stesichorus before him was, and 
Archilocus ; but most of all Plato, who turned on him- 
self innumerable rivulets from Homer's fountain ; and 
perhaps we should have had occasion for examples, 
had not Ammonius, selecting them, one by one, re- 
marked them. Now this proceeding is not plagiarism, 
but the taking of an impression, as if from the fine 
moral of their fiction or story, {h) And it seems to me, 
that he could not have forced such beauties into tenets 
of philosophy, and have often enteo-ed with him into 
the matter and phrase of poetry, had he not contend- 
ed against Homer, with all his heart, for the first rank, 
(at a young champion against one already admired,) 
too eagerly perhaps, and defying him, in a manner to 



LOXGINrS ox THE SUBLIME. 



25 



mortal combat ; not, however, without advantage : for 
according to Hesiod, ^'this sort of contest is good for 
mortal men," and in truth, this contest for glory and 
renown, is honorable and deserving of victory, in 
which it is not inglorious, even to be defeated by those 
^Yho went before us. 



SECTION XIV. 

It is right therefore, that w^also, when we earnest- 
ly undertake any thing, requiring sublimity, should 
figure to our minds how Homer, suppose, would ex- 
press this same thing, or how Plato or Demosthenes 
would dress it in sublimity, or Thucydides in history. 
For those celebrated persons occurring to us for imita- 
tion, and, in a manner, shining as a hght before us, 
will raise our souls to the fancied measure. But still 
more, if we w^ould represent this to our minds, how 
would Homer, w^ere he present, hsten to this expres- 
sion of mine, or Demosthenes ; or how would they be 
affected by it ? For it is, in truth, a great excitement 
to constitute such a theatre and tribunal for our com- 
positions ; and to fancy, (a) we must submit to an ex- 
amination of our writings before such heroes, at once, 
our judges and witnesses ; but it is a greater motive 
to animate than those, if you add, " What will future 
ages think of me, who write thus ?" 

And here, if any one apprehends, that he could not 
express any thing, which might outHve his own life 
and age, it is necessary, that the conceptions of his 
mind, imperfect and abortive, should, as it were, mis- 

4 



26 LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 

carry, not lasting till the time, when posterity may 
applaud him. 



SECTION XV. 

Besides these, visions (for thus, some writers call 
the forming of images in the mind) are, my young 
friend, very productive of sublimity, elevation, and 
energy ; in general, every thought of the mind, how- 
ever it occurs, producing an expression, is called a vi- 
sion ; but now, with writers of the present day, the 
force of the term is, When you seem, through en- 
thusiasm and passion, to behold the things, you are de- 
scribing, and place them before the eyes of your 
hearers." That a rhetorical vision means one thing, 
a poetic, another, could not have escaped you ; nor that 
surprise is the end of the poetic, perspicuity of the 
rhetorical, but both equally aim at this, viz. excite- 
ment. 

O mother, I beseech you, do not excite against me, 
Those virgins, with blood-stained eyes, and snake-encircled 
hair ; 

For they, they are near and dart on me. 
And again, 

Woe is me ! she'll kill me : — whither shall I fly I— 
Here the poet himself saw the furies, and almost com- 
pelled his audience to see what he beheld in imagina- 
tion. Euripides has labored most to express, in his 
tragedies, those two passions, love and madness ; and 
has been more fortunate in those, than any others ; 
not that he wants boldness to attempt others ; though 



LOXGI^a^S ON THE SUBLI3IE. 



27 



he is not naturally sublime, yet he has, in many in- 
stances, forced his nature to become tragic and lofty, 
and, in each attempt, at subhmity, (as the poet says,) 
With his tail, he lashes his sides, and loins, on both sides, 
And excites himself to fight. 
Thus Sol, giving the reins to Phaeton, says 
Drive on, not entering the Libyan air, 
For, not possessing a moist temperature, your chariot, 
It will let fail. 
"Then a little after, 

Drive, directing your course to the seven Pleiades. 
So far having listened, the youth then snatched the reins ; 
And whipping the sides of his winged horses, with the 
chariot, {a) 

He lets them fly ; but they flew to the convex heaven ; 

And his father mounted on the back of Sirius, 

JRode advising his son : drive here, 

There turn the chariot, and here, &c, &c. 

Could you not say, that the soul of the writer mount- 
ed the chariot with him, and, exposed to the same 
danger, accompanied the horses, in their flight ? for 
it could never have imagined such things, unless it 
were hurried along, in the same career, with those 
heavenly actions. He has also similar passages, in 
his Cassandra, — 

" But O I warlike Trojans, 

iEschylus has boldly conceived visions, truly heroic, 
(as his tragedy, " The Seven Captains against Thebes" 
has 

Seven heroes, the bold leaders of armies, 
Slaying a bull, on a black orVd shield ; (Jb) 
And dipping their hands in the bull's blood, 
By Mars, Bellona and blood thirsting Terror 
.Swore ^ ?f ^ ^ ^ 



28 LONGINUS OX THE SUBLIME. 

without the least symptom of mercy, mutually binding 
themselves, by an oath, to meet destruction,) yet he 
has sometimes produced rude, and, as it were, rough (c) 
and unpoHshed thoughts ; however Euripides, through 
emulation, forces himself to approach even those dan- 
gers. Thus in iEschylus, the palace of Lycurgus is 
wonderfully moved by the presence of Bacchus. 

The house is inspired, the very roof feels the influ- 
ence of Bacchus." Euripides has expressed the very 
same thought, in another manner, softening it, " The 
whole mountain resounds with Bacchus." But how 
subHmely Sophocles has formed an image of GEdipus 
dying and burying himself, in that prodigious tempest : 
and, at the departure of the Greeks, of Achilles ap- 
pearing on his tomb to them, preparing for their re- 
turn. Which vision, I know not, if any one has ex- 
pressed in more lively colors than Simonides ; but it 
is impossible, to produce all the instances. To re- 
turn to my subject, — Those images, used by the poets 
have, as I said, an excess quite fabulous, and far ex- 
ceeding the bounds of credibility ; but truth and pro- 
bability are the chief beauty of oratorical vision. 
Oratorical digressions {d) are violent and absurd, when 
their form of expression is poetic and fabulous, and 
falls into impossibilities ; yet even in the present day, 
our able orators (heaven make them such !) as well as 
the tragic writers, behold their furies ; and those fine 
fellows cannot learn this, that Orestes, when saying 
Leave me, thou art one of my furies 

Thou dost catch me by the middle, to throw me into Tartarus, 
sees this vision because he is mad. What then is the 
use of oratorical vision ? To add perhaps what is 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



29 



strong and passionate to our words ; but when mixed 
with arguments, drawn from the facts, it not only 
persuades the hearer, but captivates him. " And," 
says Deaiosthenes, " if any one should, on a sudden, 
hear a cry before the tribunal, and then some one 
should say, the prisons are burst open, and the pri. 
soners are escaping, there is no one, either young or 
old, could be so careless, as not to give assistance as 
far as, he is able ; but if any one should come forward, 
and say, this is the man, who let them go, he would 
immediately perish, without a hearing." Thus also, 
Hyperides, being accused, because he passed a decree, 
that the slaves, after the defeat should be made free. 

" It was not the orator, but the battle of Cheronea, 
that proposed this decree." For with an argument, 
drawn from the fact, the orator has introduced an 
image, wherefore he has exceeded the bounds of per-, 
suasion, by this circumstance. For, by some natural 
impulse, in all things of this nature, we constantly 
attend to what is most forcible ; (e) whence we are 
drawn away, from that, which harely explains, to that, 
which astonishes, by its images, surrounded by the 
blaze of which, the matter of fact is concealed. And 
this, we suffer very naturally ; for two things being 
placed together, that, which is strongest, invariably 
attracts, to itself, the entire virtue of the other. These 
observations will be sufficient, concerning the sublime, 
in thought, arising out of greatness of soul ; or imita» 
tion, or vision. 



4* 



30 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME, 



SECTION XVI. 

Here is the place, which is, in due order, assigned 
to figures : for these, if they are disposed, in the man- 
ner, they ought, would constitute, as I said, no ordi- 
nary part of subhmity : but since it would be a tedious, 
or rather an infinite, labor, to describe them all accu- 
rately, at present, we shall run over a few of them, as 
many as conduce to sublimity, for the sake of con- 
firming my assertion. 

Demosthenes brings forward a proof of his upright 
administration ; what was the natural {a) way of man- 
aging this ? " You did not act wrong, Athenians^ 
v/ho undertook the contest for the liberty of Greece. 
You have domestic examples of this conduct ; for 
those, who fought at Marathon, did not act wrong, nor 
those at Platsea." But when (as if suddenly inspired 
by the spirit of Phoebus) he broke into that oath, by 
the champions of Greece, You have not done wrong ; 
— no ; — I swear by those, who were foremost in the 
danger at Marathon," he appears, by this single jura- 
tive figure, [h) which, I here call an Apostrophe, to 
have deified their ancestors, (showing, they ought to 
swear, by those, who died in this glorious manner, as 
by gods,) and to have inspired his judges, with the 
generous principles of those, who were foremost, in 
the danger there, to have changed the nature of proof 
into an excess of sublimity and passion, and a just 
confidence, in strange and uncommon oaths, and to 
have infused into the souls of his hearers, his words. 



LOXGINUS OX THE SUBLIME. 



31 



as the balm and relief of their distress ; so that they, 
elated by his praise, were taught not to be more dis- 
pirited, by their engagement with Philip, than, by their 
victories at Marathon and Salamis ; by all which 
things, he forcibly draws the audience to his party, 
with this figure. They say indeed, that the seed, or 
hint, of this oath is to be found in Eupolis ; 

No ! I swear by my battle at Marathon, 

That no one, with joy, (c) shall grieve my heart. 

But the grandeur is not in having any person to swear 
on any occasion, but in the place, the manner, the 
time, the motive ; but in Eupolis, there is nothing but 
a mere oath, and still more, addressed to the Atheni- 
ans, whilst successful and not requiring consolation ; 
and further, the poet did not sv/ear, deifying his heroes^ 
that he may instil into his audience, sentiments, worthy 
of their virtue ; but wandered from those, who ex- 
posed themselves to danger, to an inanimate object ; — 
the battle. But in Demosthenes the oath has to do (d) 
with the vanquished, that Cheronsea may no longer 
appear a misfortune to the Athenians: and it is, as I 
said, at once, a proof, that they did not act wrong, an 
example, an oath calculated to gain credit, an enco- 
mium, an exhortation. And since it has been object- 
ed (e) to the orator, " you who conducted our admi- 
nistration, speak of a defeat, and then swear by vic- 
tories;" he therefore, in what follows, measures (Z') and 
cautiously brings forth his words ; teaching us, that 
even in the greatest excitement, it is necessary to be 
sober. " By those of our ancestors," says he, who 
shared the danger at Marathon, and those, who were 



32 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



in the naval engagement, at Salamis and Artemisium, 
and those, who stood at Platsea, in battle array," he 
did not say, " who conquered," but industriously sup- 
pressed the mention of the event, since it was fortu- 
nate, and contrary to that of Cheronsea ; and there- 
fore anticipating his audience, \he subjoins, " All of 
whom, ^schines, the city, buried at the public ex- 
pense, and not those alone, who were victorious." 



SECTION XVII. 



It is not proper, in this place, my dear friend, to 
omit one of my observations, [it shall be a very brief 
one,] that figures somehow naturally, both assist sub- 
limity, and are, in turn, assisted by it. Where and 
how, I shall tell you. It is pecuUarly suspicious to 
treat-in-an-artful-manner (a) of all things by figures : 
and it brings with it, the supposition of deceit, trea- 
chery, and fraud : more especially when we are 
pleading before an absolute judge, (but most of all 
before tyrants, kings, and leaders with unlimited autho- 
rity,) for he is immediately indignant if, like a silly 
child, he is baffled, by the trifling figures of an artful 
orator ; and considering the deception, as an insult 
offered to himself, he sometimes becomes quite furious 
and even though he should control his anger, yet he 
entirely opposes himself to the conviction of your 
arguments ; wherefore a figure seems best, when the 
fact of its being a figure, is concealed. Sublimity and 
pathos therefore constitute a great remedy and relief 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



33 



against the suspicion, attendant on figure-making ; 
and the art of adroitly-applying-them, being, in a man- 
ner, covered over with beauties (b) and sublimity, is 
altogether concealed, and escapes all suspicion : the 
former instance is a sufficient example, " By those at 
Marathon for how did the orator here conceal the 
figure ? Evidently by its very lustre. For I may 
nearly say, as weak fights are obscured, when sur- 
rounded by the dazzling rays of the sun : thus subli- 
mity poured round on every side, overshadows the 
artifices of rhetoric. Something, not very unlike this, 
perhaps, happens in painting ; for though the fight and 
shade of colours lie near each other, on the same 
ground, yet the light first strikes the eye, and not only 
appears projecting, but much nearer. Thus too, in 
writings, the subfime and pathetic being nearer our 
souls, on account of some natural connection, and on 
account of their superior splendour, are always more 
conspicuous, than figures, conceal their art, and keep 
them, as it were, veiled from our view. 



SECTION XVIII. 

But what shall we say of Interrogations and Ques- 
tions? Does not Demosthenes make his discourses 
much more nervous and vehement, by this sort of 
figure, " Would you, tell me, any of you, go about and 
ask each other, is there any thing new ? For what 
can be more new than, that a man of Macedon should 



34 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



nictke war upon Greece ? Is Philip dead ? No ; but 
he is very sick : but what ditference does it make to 
you? For though he should suffer any mishap, you 
will soon raise up another PhiHp and again, " Let 
us sail to Macedon ; but where shall we land? some 
one may ask ; the war itself will find out PhiHp's weak 
parts." This, if simply expressed, would be, in every 
respect, too mean, for the occasion. But now the 
enthusiastic spirit and rapidity of the question and an- 
swer, and the meeting of his own objections, as if they 
came from another, have not only rendered that, 
which was spoken more sublime, by the help of this 
figure, but more credible : for the pathetic then pre- 
vails most, when the speaker seems not to study, but 
the occasion, to produce it : but this questioning and 
answering oneself resemble a passion, produced at a 
moment. For, as in general, those who are question- 
ed by others, suddenly excited, forcibly and truly an- 
swer what is asked : thus, the figure of question and 
answer, leading the audience to suppose, each of those 
well considered expressions was started and spoken 
extempore, deceives them. Still further, (for this pas- 
sage of Herodotus is believed^ to be one of his most sub. 
lime) if thus * * ,^ * ^ * 



SECTION XIX. 



^ 'pj^g sentences drop down unfetter- 
ed, and are, in a manner, poured forth, anticipating 
even the speaker himself. " And joining their shields," 



LONGIXUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



35 



says Xenophon, " They were pushed, they fought, 
they slew, they died (a) and these words of Eury. 
lochus — 

We went, as you ordered, through the thickets, O illus- 
trious Ulysses, 
We found, in the vale, a well built, splendid mansion. 

For words, thus severed from each other, and never- 
theless urged on, exhibit the marks of an anxiety, at 
once retarding and accelerating the discourse. 
Such was the force of the poet's Asyndetons. 



SECTION XX. 

But the collecting of figures together, is accustomed 
to excite most eifectually, when two or three combined, 
as it were, in united bands, jointly procure, for each 
other, strength, efficacy, and beauty ; such as those 
Asyndetons against Midias, mixed with repetitions and 
lively descriptions. 

" For he, who strikes another can do many aggra- 
vating things, by his gesture, look, and voice ; some 
of which, the sufferer cannot express to any one;" 
then that he may not continue to move in the same 
track, (for in order, there is tranquillity, but in dis. 
order, passion ; since it is the transport and emotion of 
the soul,) he instantly passes to other asyndetons and 
repetitions, " in his gesture, eye, and voice, when 
with insolence, when with hatred, when with blows, 
when on the cheek," the orator, by those expressions, 



36 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



does the very thing, the offender did ; viz. strike the 
imagination of his judges, by this violent and continued 
attack ; then afterwards, making a second charge, as 
tempests succeed each otlier, he says, when with 
thumps, when on the cheek, those things rouse, those 
things excite men, unaccustomed to be insulted ; no 
one, in relating them, can place their enormity suffi- 
ciently before you he thus, by continued variation, 
fully preserves the natural force of the repetitions and 
asyndetons : thus with him, order seems disorder, and 
on the other hand, his disorder has an air of regularity. 



SECTION XXI. 

Come now, if you wish, add the copulatives, as those 
do, who imitate tho style of Isocrates : " And this I 
must not omit, that he who strikes another, can do 
many aggravating things ; first, by his gesture, then 
by his eye, then by his very voice and you will 
perceive by thus altering through the whole, that the 
rapidity, and roughness of the pathetic, if you render 
it smooth and level, by copulatives, falls without point, 
and is soon extinguished. For as, if a person would 
bind the limbs of racers, he takes away their active 
motion : thus the pathetic disdains to be fettered by 
copulas, and other adjuncts : for they destroy (a) the 
freedom of its motion, and that appearance of being, as 
it were, discharged from an engine. 



Lo^■GI^"'us ox the sublime. 



37 



SECTION XXII. 

We must understand, that hyperbatons too are of 
the same description. A71 Hyperlaton is an arrange- 
ment of words, or thoughts, removed from the natural 
order, and is, as it were, the true distinguishing mark 
of a vehement passion. For as those, who are in 
reality, actuated by wrath, fear, indignation, or who, 
through jealousy or any other passion, (for the pas- 
sions are many, nay infinite : it is impossible to tell 
how many there are,) fluctuate, in various ways, after 
premising one thing, often pass on to another ; insert- 
ing some things, in the midst, quite unexpectedly, then 
return again to what, they had commenced with, and 
suddenly tossed from one thing to another, by the vio- 
lence of their emotion, as by some unsteady blast, 
change their expressions, thoughts, and arrangement, 
from the natural order, by innumerable windings, (a) 
Thus with the best writers, by Hyperbatons, imita- 
tion approaches the workings of nature ; (for art is 
then perfect, when it seems to be nature — but nature is 
on the other hand, most successful, when it contains 
secret art;) as in Herodotus, Dionysius of Phocsea 
says; '*Now are your affairs, in the most critical 
situation, lonians, whether you shall be freemen or 
slaves, nay even fugitive slaves ! Xov>- if you wish 
to undergo hardship, you will, for the present, have 
some trouble ; but you will be able to overcome the 
enemy." Here the arrangement should be — " loni- 
ans, now is the favorable moment for you, to undergo 

5 



38 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME, 



hardships, for our affairs are in the most critical situa- 
tion but he transposed the salutation^ " lonians for 
through fear, he instantly commences, and does not, at 
all (l) first address his audience, from the apprehen- 
sion, he was under ; he next inverted the order of the 
thoughts ; for before he tells them, they must use ex- 
ertions, (for this is what he advises,) he explains the 
reason, why it was necessary to use exertions, saying, 
" our affairs are in the most critical situation," that he 
may not appear to utter a premeditated address, but 
what necessity forced from him. Thucydides is still 
more skilful, in tearing asunder, by hyperbatons, those 
things, which are by nature, entirely united and inse- 
parable. Demosthenes does not indulge himself in 
them, so much, as he ; {Thucydides ;) yet he is more 
discreetly liberal (c) of this kind of figure, than any 
other writer ; and by his skill in transposing, has the 
appearance of much vehemence, and even of speak- 
ing extempore ; and besides draws his audience into 
all the danger of long hyperbatons ; for often suspend- 
ing the thought, which he began to express, and in the 
mean time, (as if going into quite a different, and un- 
like arrangement,) heaping on each other many, even 
irrelevant incidents, causing in his audience, an ap- 
prehension of the entire dissolution of his argument, 
and compelling them, through anxiety to feel the dan- 
ger of the person addressing them ; then to their sur- 
prise, after a long interval, seasonably introducing, at 
the conclusion of his address, that which was so long 
and eagerly expected, he makes a much more lasting 
impression, by this bold and hazardous use of hyper- 



LONGIXUS Ors THE SUBLIME. 39 

batons. But we must forbear giving examples, on 
account of their abundance. 



SECTION XXIII. 

Those figures, called Polyptotes, Collections, Chan- 
ges and Gradations, are very energetic, as you well 
know, and are useful for ornament, sublimity and pas- 
sion. But how do changes of cases, tenses, persons, 
numbers, and genders, adorn and elevate a style ? I 
' assert indeed; that not only these numbers are an orna- 
ment, as many as being singular in their form, are, on 
observation, found to be plural, in vigor and efficacy : 
Forthwith, (says he,) an immense crowd 
Furiously rush, and standing on the shore, shout, (a) 
But this is most worthy of remark, that sometimes 
plurals meet (b) the ear, more magnificent and grand 
in appearance, by the copiousness of number ; such 
are the verses of Sophocles in his CEdipus : — 
Oh Nuptials, nuptials I 
Ye have begot us, and having begot, again 
Have ye remitted the same seed, and ye have shown 
Fathers, brothers, children, one kindred blood. 
Brides, wives, and mothers, and whatever 
Deeds are considered basest among men. 
For all these expressions are but one name for CEdi- 
pus, on one hand, and Jocasta, on the other. But the 
numbers spread (c) into plurals, multiplied even his 
misfortunes : like this, is the following instance of 
Pleonasm — 

Then Hectors and Sarpedons issued forth. 



40 



LOXGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



And this expression of Plato, about the Athenians^ 
which we cited in another place, " for neither Pelopses 
nor Cad muses, nor ^Egyptuses, nor Danauses, nor 
many others barbarous, in their descent, dwell with 
us ; but we entirely Grecians, having no mixture of 
barbarian blood, dwell," &c. For things naturally 
excite in the hearers, a greater opinion of their subli- 
mity, when words are thus heaped, in crowds, on each 
other. But you must not attempt this, in any other species 
^f writing, than that, in which the subject admits am- 
plification, enlargement, exaggeration, or passion, one 
or more of them ; since to hang your bells, on every 
occasion, is highly pedantic. 



SECTION XXIV. 

But on the contrary, those which from plurals, are 
reduced to the contracted form of singulars, have 
sometimes the greatest appearance of subhmity. — 
" Then," said he, " all Peloponnesus was rent into fac- 
tions." ''And,'' says Herodotus, "when Phrynicus 
was representing (a) his tragedy, called the Capture 
of Miletus, the whole theatre was melted into tears :" 
for the change of the number, from what is divided 
among many, to what is united into one, has more ap- 
parent vigor. But the cause of the beauty, is, I think, 
the same in both ; for when words are singular, to 
make them plural, is the mark of a speaker, unex- 
pectedly affected ; and when there are plurals, to coU 



LONGITOJS ON THE SUBLIME. 



41 



lect them into a sounding singular, on account of the 
contrary change, is a thing equally unexpected. 



SECTION XXV. 

When you introduce things past, as happening, and 
present, it is no longer, narration, but an action hap- 
pening before the eyes of your readers. But," says 
Xenophon, '*some one falling under Cyrus's horse, and 
being trodden under foot, sticks, with his sword, the 
belly of the horse ; he, plunging with pain, throws 
Cyrus, and he falls to the ground.'* Thucydides uses 
this figure, in many instances. 



SECTION XXVI. 

A change of persons equally sets the thing before 
our eyes, and often makes the audience fancy them- 
selves, in the midst of the danger — 
You would say, that they unwearied unfatigued, each other 
Encountered in the war : — so ardently they fought. 
And Aratus 

You should not be encompassed by the sea, in that month. 
Thus likewise Herodotus. — You will sail upwards 
from the city Elephantina, and then you will arrive on 
a level coast ; — but having passed this place, again em- 
barking, in another vessel, you will sail for two days, 
and you will then arrive at a great city, whose name 
is Meroe." l^ou see, my friend, how seizing on your 
imagination, he conducts it through those places, mak- 

5* 



42 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



ing your hearing, sight ; all such passages, directed 
to the hearers themselves, place them, in the midst of 
the things, that are passing. And when you address 
your discourse, not to all, in general, but to some one, 
in particular ; as 

You could not distinguish Tydides, amongst which of the 
two he was engaged. 

You will make the reader more animated, by this ad- 
dress to himself, more impassioned, more attentive, 
and full of anxious impatience, (a) 



SECTION XXVII. 

Sometimes too, when a writer is speaking of some 
person, hurried suddenly away, he is transformed into 
that very person. And such a figure is the powerful 
effect of passion : 

But Hector encouraged the Trojans, shouting loudly, 
To rush on the ships, and to leave the bloody spoils. 
Whomsoever I shall find willingly remain apart from the 
ships. 

There will I contrive his death. 

Thus the poet took the narrative on himself, as suited 
to him, but without any previous notice, gives the ab- 
rupt threat to his angry leader. It would have been 
cold, if he had put in, " thus Hector spoke, and thus 
but here the transition anticipated him, intending to 
make it. Wherefore we must use this figure, when 
the exigency of the time does not allow the writer to 
delay, but compels him to pass, at once from person to 
person. Thus in Hecataeus, " But Ceyx, troubled at 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME » 48 

those things, (a) immediately ordered the Heraclidas 
to depart : — " for I am no longer able to assist you ; 
therefore, that you may not yourselves be ruined, and 
bring destruction on me, depart to some other people. 
Demosthenes, in quite a different manner, has intro- 
duced against Aristogiton, this variety of persons, 
with passion and volubility. — ^' And shall none of you 
be found, filled with anger and indignation, at the vio- 
lent actions of this filthy and impudent wretch ? who — 
thou vilest of mankind ! "when the liberty of speaking 
was prevented, not by bars, or gates, which perhaps 
some one could privately open — before he finished 
the thought quickly changing, and through the violence 
of his passion, almost tearing, a word (b) into two per- 
sons—" who — thou most vile !" then turning to some 
other object, his address to Aristogiton, and appearing 
to leave him, through the heat of passion, he brings 
it back with greater force. So Penelope — 
Herald, why have these lordly suitors sent you ? 
Is it to tell the servants of the illustrious Ulysses 
To discontinue their emplojonents, and carefully dress their 

banquet, for them ? - - 

Oh, that, no longer soliciting marriage, nor remaining, on 

any other pretence, 
They may sup here now for the last time — 
— You — who assembled together consume much food. 
The pr.operty of the valiant Telemachus : nor have you, in 

any wise. 

When children, heard from your fathers before you, 
What sort Ulysses was. 



44 



LONGINUS ON THE SXJBLiaiE. 



SECTION XXVIII. 

Nobody, I think, can deny that Periphrasis is a 
cause of subHmity. For, as in music, the principal 
note is rendered sweeter by the divisions on it, (a) this 
Periphrasis harmonizes with propriety of expression, 
and sounding in unison, adds to its beauty ; especially 
if there be nothing in it jarring or discordant, but deli- 
catel}^ tempered. Plato is a sufficient example of this, 
in the commencement of his Funeral Oration : — 
They indeed possess the honors, due to them, which 
having obtained, they make the fatal voyage, conduct- 
ed on their way, in public, by the city ; in private, 
each by his own relations he thus, calls death," the 
fatal voyage," and the obtaining of funeral rites, a 
public conducting of them, by their country." Has 
he wdth such expressions, but slightly exalted the 
thought, Avhich taking in its rude and naked state, he 
has modulated, by his manner of expression ; spread- 
ing around it, the melody of his Periphrasis to give it 
harmony ? Xenophon also says — " You consider la- 
bor the guide to a happy state, and you have lodged 
in your breasts, a possession, the noblest and most be- 
fitting soldiers ; you rejoice in commendation, more 
than aiiy other reward." Instead of ^' you wish to 
labor," by " saying, you make labor your guide to a 
happy life," and enlarging some other words, in the 
same manner, he has included, in his encomium, a sub- 
lime thought. This passage of Herodotus is quite 
inimitable. — '' The goddess sent the female disease (a) 
into those Scythians, who had pillaged her temple." 



GIFT'S ON THE SUBLI:ME, 



45 



SECTION XXIX. 

A Periphrasis is indeed a figure more liable to 
abuse, (a) than any other ; unless it be used by a per- 
son, with great circumspection : for otherwise it imme- 
diately becomes feeble, and savours {h) of inanity and 
dulness. Whence some critics deride even Plato, (for 
he is fond of using this figure, and, in some instances, 
improperly,) for saying in his laws, " They must not 
allow either the wealth of gold or silver (c) to settle 
and dwell in the city ; so that if, say they, he would 
prevent them from keeping sheep and oxen, it is mani- 
fest, he would have said, — ' the wealth of sheep and 
oxen " but let it suffice, my dear friend, Terentianus, 
to have briefly spoken thus far, by way of digression, {d) 
about the use of figures to forra the sublime ; for all 
those things make writings more lively and pathetic. 
Now the pathetic partakes as much of subHmity, as 
moral writing does of pleasure. 



SECTION XXX. 

Since the sentiments and language of compositions 
are generally best explained by each, come, let us, in 
the next place, consider if any thing still remains to be 
said about the diction. It were superfiious to say, that 
a selection of masterly and splendid terms wonderfully 
gains on, and soothes, the audience : and that, it is 



46 LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 

the principal study of ail orators and writers ; as it 
makes sublimity, beauty, solemnity, weight, force, and 
strength, and if there be any thing else, spread such 
beauties in writings, as are seen, in exquisite paint- 
ings : (a) and gives, as it were, a kind of vocal life to 
things. I fear, I say, lest it should be superfluous to 
tell all this, to those, who must know it ; fine words 
are, in truth, the peculiar light of our thoughts. To 
have them swollen is not necessary in every instance ; 
since to dress low and trifling subjects, in great and 
lofty expressions, would appear, just as if any one 
should dress an infant, in an enormous mask ; but in 
poetry ^ ^ ^ ^ * (^) 



SECTION XXXI. 

^ * * * This expression of Anacreon is very 
vulgar, but very natural. — *'Ino longer turn me to 
Thrace." Thus too that celebrated expression of 
Theopompus, as it corresponds to the sense, appears 
to me to be m.ore significant ; yet Cecilius censures it, 
I know not why. " PhiHp, says he, knew well how[to 
swallow any thing, when necessity obliged." A vul- 
gar expression is sometimes much more significant, 
than the most ornamental : for what is borrowed from 
common life, is immediately understood, and that, 
which is familiar, is sooner credited ; therefore the ex- 
pression " to swallow, any thing, when necessity oblig- 
ed him," is most happily apphed to him, who endurea 



LONGIXXJS OX THE SUBLniE. 4< 

all foul and shameful things patiently, nay even with 
pleasure, to promote his ambition. Of the same de- 
scription are these expressions of Herodotus Cleo- 
menes," says he, seized with madness, cut his skin 
into pieces with a dagger ; until tearing himself open, 
he destroys himself and '^Pythes continued to 
fight in the ship, until he was hacked to pieces." Those 
expressions approach nearly (a) to vulgar, but are noi 
vulgar, in their signification. 



SECTION XXXII. 

As to a multitude of metaphors Cecihus seems to 
agree with those, who establish it as a rule, that two 
or three, at most, should be placed together. For 
Demosthenes is the standard, in this also ; and the 
time to use them is, when the passions rush on, like a 
torrent, and sweep with them, a heap of metaphors, as 
a thing unavoidable. Those wicked, accursed, and 
cringing traitors," said he, " who mangledj each, his 
own country, and gave up with indifFerence, their li- 
berty, formerly to Philip, now to Alexander ; measur- 
ing their happiness, by their belly, and every thing 
most vile ; but destroying their liberty, and the proud 
hoast of having no master, which, with the former 
Greeks, was the rule and standard of their felicity." 
Here the indignation of the orator against the traitors 
conceals the number of his metaphors. Wherefore 
Aristotle and Theophrastus say, that some such ex» 
pressions as these, soften bold metaphors : — 



48 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



" If I may so express myself and, " as it were 
andj "if I may be allowed the expression;" and, to 
speak more boldly — For this excuse, they say, pal- 
liates the boldness. But although I approve of these 
excuses, yet, I assert, (as I did about figures) that 
well timed and violent passions, and true subHmity, 
are proper palliations for the number and boldness of 
metaphors : because it is natural for them, by the vio- 
lence of their career, to carry all before them, or ra- 
ther to require those bold figures, as absolutely neces- 
sary ; nor do they allow the audience time to blame 
their number, as they inspire them, with the feelings 
of the speaker. At least in commonplace observa- 
tions and descriptions, nothing is so expressive, as fre- 
quent and continued tropes ; by means of which, the 
anatomy of the human body is magnificently describ- 
ed in Xenophon; and still more divinely in Plato. 

Man's head," says he, " is a citadel ; the neck is 
placed as an isthmus, between it and the breast, and 
the vertebrae are placed under it, as hinges, that plea- 
sure is the bait, wliich allures men to evil ; that the 
tongue is the informer of tastes ; that the heart, the 
knot of the veins, and the fountain of the blood, which 
rapidly circulates is placed in a well secured habita- 
tion ;"— the pores, he calls narrow streets ; and says, 
that the gods, " intending a provision for the palpita- 
tion of the heart, under the apprehension of evil and 
the excitement of passion, when it is influenced, in- 
serted the lungs soft and bloodless, and having within 
small pores like a sponge to act as a malagma ; in 
order that when anger boils in it, falling on a yielding 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME, 40 

substance, it may not be injured ; and he called the 
seat of the concupiscible passions — the woman's 
apartment; that of the irascible — the man's apart- 
ment : that the spleen is the kitchen (a) of what is 
received within, where being filled with excrements, 
it is swelled to a great size, yet soft in its consistence. 
But afterwards, says he the gods covered all with 
flesh, opposing the flesh like a rampart, as a defence 
against external injury : the blood, he calls the pas- 
ture of the flesh ; and for the sake of sustenance, said 
he, the gods opened rivulets through the body, cutting 
canals there, as in a garden, that the streams of the veins 
may flow, as it were, from some constant source, the 
body being a narrow-foraminous channel ; but when 
death approaches, says he, that the cables of the soul, 
as of a ship, are loosed, and that she is left, at liberty." 
The same and innumerable like expressions are in the 
sequel, but those already produced suffice to show, 
that tropes are naturally grand ; and that metaphors 
add subUmity ; and that descriptive and pathetic com- 
positions use them in general, with propriety. It is 
already evident, though I should not mention it, that 
the use of tropes, as of all other ornaments in writing, 
is a thing always tempting, or leading, to excess. Men 
censure even Plato for these, as he is often hurried 
away into immoderate and harsh metaphors, and pom- 
pous allegory, from the rapture, with which his words 
inspire him. "For is it not easy, says he, to imagine, 
that a city should be tempered, like a bowl, into which 
the maddening god of wine, being poured, boils ; but 

being corrected by another sober god, and entering 

6 



50 



LONGINtrs ON THE SUBLIME. 



into a firm alliance with him, he makes a good and 
moderate draught For, say they, to call water " a 
sober god," and the mixture, " a correction," becomes 
a poet, not very sober himself. Cecilius laying hold 
on defects of this description, had the boldness on ac- 
count of them, to affirm in his treatise, on Lysias, 
that he was, in every respect, superior to Plato ; influ- 
enced by two passions, not contributing to direct the 
judgment. For though loving Lysias more than he 
does himself, he nevertheless hates Plato more than he 
loves Lysias. Moreover he asserted it for contention's 
sake— for his premises are not admitted, as he sup- 
posed, they would : as he produces him as a faultless 
and pure writer, whilst Plato often falls into errors : 
but this is not the fact, nor any thing like it. 



SECTION XXXIIL 

Come then, let us suppose a writer, in reality, free 
and faultless ; — is it not then worth our attention, to 
consider, at large, this important question, which is to 
be preferred in poetry and writing, sublimity with 
some errors, or what is moderate, in its best parts, but 
correct and faultless 1 And still more, whether the 
number or excellence of the beauties should, with 
justice, bear the prize in writing ? For these are en- 
quiries, peculiar to a treatise on sublimity, and abso- 
lutely require examination. For, I well know, that a 
sublime genius is far from being correct^ (for that ac- 
curacy, in every point, is exposed to the danger of 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



51 



flatness,) (a) but in sublimity, as in great wealth, 
something must be overlooked. But consider whether 
this be not a necessary consequence, that authors of 
humble, moderate talents, as they hazard nothing, 
and aim not at excellence, will, in general, remain 
faultless and more safe, than others ; but that those of 
a sublime nature are liable to error, on account of that 
very sublimity. Nor am I ignorant of this other con- 
sideration, that all human works are best known by 
their imperfection, and that the recollection of errors 
remains indelible ; but that of excellencies quickly 
passes away, (h) But I, who have remarked not a 
few faults in Homer, and those other writers, who are 
most celebrated, and am, by no means, pleased with 
such slips, (although I do not consider them wilful er- 
rors, but rather oversights^ occasioned by their negli- 
gence, expressed carelessly, and, at random, unknown 
to themselves from the sublimity of their nature,) ne- 
vertheless I am of opinion, that excellencies of a higher 
order, though they may not preserve an equality 
throughout, should always hold the first rank, if it 
were for no other reason, than their sublimity, (c) 
Because Apollonius, the author of the Argonautics, 
was a faultless writer : (and in Pastorals, Theocritus 
was most happy ; except in a few things, where he 
quitted his province ;) would you therefore wish to be 
Apollonius rather than Homer ? [d) but what ! Is 
Eratosthenes, in his Erigone, (for it is a delicate little 
poem, [e) without a single fault,) a poet superior to 
Archilochus, who unexpectedly (/) breaks out into 
many irregularities, by the force of that godhke spirit, 



52 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



which it is difficult to reduce to laws ? but what ! (g) 
In Lyrics, would you choose to be Bacchylid^s rather 
than Pindar, and in tragedy, Ion of Chios, than, ye 
gods ! the great Sophocles ? for they are faultless, 
and with a smooth delicate style, have left nothing 
without decoration : (h) whilst Pindar and Sophocles 
sometimes, by their rapidity, set every thing, as it 
were, in a blaze, but are unexpectedly extinguished 
and sink most unhappily. Truly no man of sense, 
collecting together all the plays of Ion, would put 
them in competition, with that single play of Sopho^ 
cles — -the OEdipus. 



SECTION XXXIV. 

If the beauties of composition are to be estimated 
by their number, not by their quality, Hyperides would 
thus excel Demosthenes, in every respect ; for he is 
more harmonious, has more excellencies, and is nearly 
perfect in all things, as a master of the five exercises, 
v/ho is inferior to the other combatants, who individu- 
ally excel him in all the exercises, but is superior to 
those of his own stamp, {a) 

For Hyperides, to an imitation of all the excellencies 
of Demosthenes (except composition) has moreover 
united the beauties and graces of Lysias. For he is 
smooth, where there is occasion for simplicity, and 
does not (as Demosthenes) deHver every thing in the 
same strain, and with the same violence, and has a 



longinijS on the sublime. 53 

moral style, sweet and pleasing, (b) agreeably sea. 
soned ; there are innumerable turns of wit in him ; his 
raillery is most refined ; there is a nobleness in it ; 
graceful (c) in irony ; his jests not inelegant or forced, 
(like those imitations of the Attics,) but suited to his 
subject; happy in turning arguments into ridicule; {d) 
great comic powers, with a well-directed playfulness, 
his sting is admirable, and in all these qualities, his 
grace (I may say) is inimitable ; he is also extremely 
well adapted by nature to excite compassion, diffuse 
(e) in his fables, and has a wonderful address in turn- 
ing from his arguments, with a flexible spirit, (/) as 
(for instance) in these poetic fables, about Latona : he 
has composed a funeral oration with such pomp and 
ornament, that I know not if any one can equal him. 
Now Demosthenes is unsuccessful in describing man- 
ners, not diffuse, by no means, a pliant (g) or a showy 
speaker, and, for the most part, devoid of all those 
qualities, that have been mentioned ; where he forces 
himself to be merry or facetious, he rather becomes 
ridiculous, than excites laughter ; and when he at- 
tempts, to approach an agreeable style, he is farthest 
from it ; if he had attempted to compose that elegant 
oration for Phryne or Athenogenes, he would have 
raised Hyperides still higher. But since, as I think, 
the beauties of the one, though numerous, are without 
sublimity, and belong to a person of no excitement, 
are tame, and permit the hearer to be unmoved, no 
one, who reads Hyperides, is impassioned ; but the 
other having acquired qualities of the highest order, 
and improved to the highest perfection; — a tone of 

6* 



54 LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 

sublimity ; — heartfelt passion ; — a, copiousness of style ; 
— justness of conception ; (A) — rapidity ; — moreover 
(what is peculiar to him) — a force and power, never 
approached by any other. 

Since, I say, he had collected within himself, in 
abundance, those gifts, bestowed by the gods, (for it is 
not right to call them human,) he, on this account, 
excels all competitors, in those beauties, which he 
does possess ; and to compensate for those, he does 
not possess, he strikes down, with his thunder, and 
consumes in his blaze, the orators of every age. And 
sooner could a man gaze upon the flashing hghtnings, 
than behold with steady eyes, his successive and va- 
rious passions. 



SECTION XXXV. 

With respect to Plato, the difference between him 
and Lysias is, as I have said, of another kind ; for 
Lysias being inferior not only in the excellency, but 
the number of his beauties, has surpassed him more in 
his faults, than he has been surpassed in excellencies. 

What then had those divine writers, who aim at 
sublimity, in their composition, in view, when they 
despised this accuracy in every part? — this object^ 
with many others: — That nature designed, that we 
should be no mean or groveling animals, but introduc- 
ing us into life, and this wide universe, as into a 
crowded assembly to be spectators of all her works, 
and to contend eagerly for glory ; (a) she implanted 



LONGINrS Oy THE SUBLIME. 



55 



in our souls, from their first creation, an invincible pas- 
sion for every thing sublime, and more divine than 
ourselves. Wherefore even this whole universe is 
not sufficient, for the contemplation and vast powers 
of the human mind : but its thoughts pass far beyond 
the limits of the surrounding world ; and if any one 
should take a survey of the life of man, which abounds 
most with what is great and illustrious, he would soon 
be sensible of the end of his creation. Hence, forced 
by a natural impulse, we do not admire small streams, 
though clear and useful : but the Nile, the Ister, or 
the Rhine ; and most of all the ocean ; nor do we view 
the fire kindled on our hearth, though it preserves a 
clear hght, with more admiration, than the stars of 
heaven, though often obscured, and darkened ; nor do 
we think it more an object of wonder, than the craters 
of ^tna, whose chasms send up stones and whole 
rocks, from the abyss, and sometimes pour forth rivers 
of this same fire. With respect to such things, this 
we may affirm ; that what is useful or necessary is 
easily acquired by man, {and is not therefore an olject 
of admiration,) but what is unexpected ^nd liard to he 
acquired, always excites his admiration. 



SECTION XXXVL 

With respect to those naturally sublime in writing, 
(in whom sublimity never occurs, without its advant- 
age and use,) {a) we must here consider, that such 



56 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



writers, though far from perfection, are however, 
above what is mortal ; and that other things prove 
those, who use them to be men, but sublimity raises 
them nearly to the grandeur of the gods ;— and that 
what is faultless cannot be censured, but the sublime 
is regarded with admiration. 

What need I further add to these ? — that each of 
those writers, by one subhme and exalted passage 
amply redeems his former errors, and, (which is of 
the greatest force,) that if any one, selecting the er- 
rors of Homer, Demosthenes, Plato, and those others, 
as many as are the most sublime, should heap them 
all together, they would be found to bear a trifling, or 
rather not the smallest proportion to those things, so 
beautifully expressed in every page, by those heroes 
of literature. 

Wherefore every age and generation, that cannot 
be accused of folly, through envy, have given to them, 
the prize of victory, and to the present day,' preserve 
it, from being wrested from them ; and seem resolved 
to watch il for them. 

As long as water flows, or lofty woods put on their green, (b) 
To him, who proposes this objection, that a Co- 
lossus, full of errors, is not better than Polycletus' 
lifeguard man ; it is easy, with many other things to 
say, that in the works of art, what is most accurate, 
is most admired, but in the works of nature, that which 
is most subUme ; but by nature, man is endowed with 
speech. As therefore resemblance to man is required 
in statues, so in speech, as I have said, that which is 
more than human. It is fit however, (for this precept 



LOXGIXUS OX THE SUBLIME. 



57 



returns, or, refers us, to the commencement of the 
treatise,) since a faultless style is, for the most part, 
the successful production of art, and sublimity, though 
it cannot preserve the same tone throughout, is the 
production of a grand nature : it is jit, I say, by every 
means to acquire art to assist nature : for the union of 
those may perhaps constitute perfection. Those things 
it was necessary for me to determine, about the pro- 
posed questions ; but let each enjoy those opinions, 
with which, he is best pleased. 



SECTION XXXVII. 

To metaphors (for I must return to my subject,) [d) 
comparisons and hyperboles have an affinity differing 
only, in this ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ ^ 



SECTION XXXVIII. 

Such liyperloles are very bad, *'If you have not 
your brains, in your heels, and tre a:d on them 
wherefore we must know how far the limits of each 
extend ; for sometimes to overshoot [a) the mark, de- 
stroys the hyperbole, and such things, overstretched, 
are relaxed and changed into contrary effects. Thus 
Isocrates, I know not how, committed a childish act, 
through an anxiety to express every thing, in a pom» 
pous manner. The design of his celehrated Panegyric 
is to yrove, that the state of the Athenians surpassed 



58 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



that of the Lacedemonians, in benefits to the Greeks ; 
but in the very commencement, he places this,— 
Words then have such power, that is possible, to 
make great actions appear contemptible, and clothe 
in sublimity, trifling ones ; to speak of old things, in 
a new style, and relate, in an old fashioned manner, 
things, that have just occurred." 

Will you then Isocrates (any one may say) thus 
change %vhat concerns the Lacedemonians and Athe- 
nians ; for this encomium on words, nearly gives his 
audience an advice and warning to distrust him. 
Consider then whether those hyperboles are not the 
best, which (as we before said, on figures) conceal 
the fact, that they are hyperboles. But such is al- 
ways the case, when, through excessive passion, they 
are accompanied, by a pomp of circumstances ; which 
Thucydides dexterously effects, in speaking of those, 
who perished in Sicily—'' And the Syracusans {l) 
plunging in after them, chiefly massacred those in 
the river ; and the water was instantly discolored 
with blood ; but nevertheless it v/as drank, though 
polluted w^ith gore and mu4 and still more was eagerly 
contended for, by many:" — that "blood ^nd gore 
were drank," — '' that it was even eagerly contended 
for," the excess of the passion, and the circumstances 
render credible. And this passage of HerodoiuS; 
about those at Thermopylae, is like the former, In 
this place," said he, " the barbarians showering their 
darts, buried under them, those defending themselves 
with their swords, (as many of them as had swords 
remaining,) and their hands and mouths {c} — here 



LONGI^^TS OX THE SUBLliME. 



59 



you will exclaim, what an expression this is. ^* fight* 
ing even with their mouths against armed men i''— 
and this, ** were buried under their darts yet this 
passage equally claims credit : for the act does not 
-seem to be accommodated to the hyperbole, but the 
hyperbole to be created, with propriety, by the act : 
for works, which approach ecstacy, and passions are 
(as I cannot cease insisting on it) an universal re- 
medy, and means of delivering you from any bold- 
ness of expression ; whence the expressions in com- 
edy, though falling into improbabihty, are credible, as 
they excite the jKission of laughter ; — as in this ; He 
had a farm, which contained less land, than a Lacede- 
monian letter — for laughter is a passion, arising 
from pleasure. But as hyperboles are used to enlarge, 
they are likewise used to diminish : since extension is 
common to both, and the diasyrm {a kind of hyperbole) 
is the increase of an object's lowness. 



SECTIOX XXXIX. 

The fifth of those parts, which in the coiximence-^ 
ment, we set forth, as contributing to the sublime, still 
remains, mv friend: viz., a certain arranc^ement of 
the words, about which, though we have spoken, at 
large, in two former treatises, whatever we could ar- 
rive at by observation, we must of necessity, add this 
for the present subject : that harmonious composition 
is not only the natural cause of persuasion and plea-., 
sure to mankind, but also the wonderful instrument 



60 



LONGINtJS ON THE SUBLIME. 



of sublimity (a) and passion. For does not the flut e 
infuse certain passions into those, who listen to it, and 
make them, as it were, bereft of reason, and filled 
with enthusiasm ? and by giving an impression of - the 
cadence, does it not compel the Hstener to move ac- 
cording to it, (b) and keep time with it, though he has 
no skill in music at all ? And indeed the sounds of 
the harp though insignificant, in themselves, (e) by 
their change of tones, by mixing and tempering each 
other, often produce, as you know, the delightful 
effects of harmony — yet these are but the images 
and spurious imitations of the persuasive voice of man^ 
and net, as I have said, the genuine effects of human 
nature. Should we not think then, that composition, 
as it is the harmonious union of words, implanted by 
nature in man, and reaching the heajt itself, not the 
ear alone ; as it excites in us, various ideas of words, 
thoughts, actions, beauty, modulation, every thing, 
born in us and connected with us ; as by the mixture 
and variety of its sounds, it introduces, into the souls 
of those present, the passions, which attend [d) the 
speaker, and always oblige his audience to participate 
in his cause : and by raising on each other, beautiful 
expressions, constructs a sublime edifice ; should we 
not thinky I say, that, by these means, it both sooths 
us, and, in every way, disposes us to grandeur, dig- 
nity, sublimity, and every thing, which it embraces 
within itself, having the absolute sway of our thoughts 7 
But to dispute about things, so universally acknow- 
ledged, would be madness, for experience is sufficient 
proof. That sentiment, which Demosthenes express- 



LO^-GI^■us ON the srsLniE. 



61 



€d about the decree, is, in appearance, sublime, and, 
in truth, admirable. TS-o to Y'/jqjJcrfAa tov tots tt, croXsi 
crsjitfTccvra xlvouvov crapsX^su/ S'lrojyjtj'sv, :Ija'cfcj vsaog ; 
— " this decree made the danger, which then stood 
over the city, pass away like a cloud but the 
grandeur of the expression consists (e) in the har- 
mony, not less than in the sentiment ; for it is wholly 
expressed in dactyls ; the most noble measure, and 
most productive of sublimity : hence they form heroic 
metre ; the grandest, with which we are acquainted, 
* * * * * * //le icordsj wtf-rsp vscoc; are judicious- 
ly placed ; for, transfer it, {the member,) from its own 
situation, wherever you please, as Tiro to sj^Tj^iC'/xa 
J^Trcj or, even cut off but one syllable, as scroir^tfa 
'Tfa^sX^eTv (Zg vc'^og and you will see how much harmony 
conspires with sublimity. For this Jjtf-rsj vicpog marches 
majestically, with the first movement long, consisting 
of four times ; but one syllable being taken away — 
u)g vscpog — diminishes the sublimity ; as, on the other 
hand, if you extend it, — ujo'ttspsi vsogc, — it has the same 
signification, but the cadence is entirely lost : as by 
the length of the last measures, its sublime grandeur 
(/) is relaxed and destroyed, (g) 



SECTION XL. 

But particularly the connexion of mem/bers, strength- 
ens a discourse, as it does bodies ; of which, any one 
member, separated from the other, has, by itself, no- 



62 



LONGINIJS ON THE SUBLIME* 



thing valuable ; but all, united with each other, com^ 
pletely form the perfect body : thus, the parts of the 
sublime, torn from each other, destroy the sublimity 
and themselves : but when embodied, by union, and 
encircled by the bond of harmony, they become sono- 
rous by this encircling ; and in the periods, the sub- 
lime is the joint production of a multitude. It has 
been sufficiently shown by me, that many poets and 
other writers, not sublime, by nature, nay, even mean 
and humble, did, though using, for the most part, low 
and vulgar terms, and having no mark of excellence, 
by the bare composition and connexion of them, effect 
grandeur, and subhmity (a) and acquire for themselves, 
the character of not being humble writers. (Many 
others did this, with Philistus, Aristophanes, in some 
passages, and Euripides, in most.) 

Thus in the latter, Hercules, after the murder of his 
children, says — 

I am filled with woes ; there is no place wherein another can 
find entrance. 

The expression is very vulgar ; but corresponding in 
structure to the sense, it becomes sublime : (h) but 
place them in any other order, and it will be evi- 
dent, that Euripides was more a master of composition, 
than sentiment. 

Of Dirce dragged by the bull, he says — 
Whenever the bull happened to turn round, he took and 

dragged with him, 
The woman, rock, and oak ; always changing his course. 

Even the circumstance itself is noble ; but becomes 
more forcible, as the harmony of the sentence is nei- 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



63 



ther hurried, nor mechanically accelerated ; but the 
words, having props for their mutual support, and 
bars to prevent too rapid time, advance-with-a-firm. 
pace to soHd sublimity, (c) 



SECTION XLI. 
But nothing so much debases the sublime, as num» 
bers broken and rapid, in a sentence ; such as Pyr- 
rhics, Trochees, Dichorees ; wliicli are altogether suit- 
ed to dancing : for those inferior numbers appear brisk 
and neat, but devoid of passion, and, by their same- 
ness become superficial, and disagreeaUe. What is 
still worse, as the notes, in songs, direct the attention 
of the audience from the sense, and forcibly draw it 
on themselves, so periods, composed in these inferior 
numbers, do not excite in the audience, a passionate 
attention to the sense, but to the measure ; so that 
sometimes foreseeing the proper pauses, they beat 
time with those speaking, and even anticipating, mark 
the pause before them, as in a dance. In the same 
manner, those words lying too close, and chopped into 
few and short syllables, are without sublimity : thus 
also, are those words, connected, as it were, with 
nails in a clumsy and rough manner, (a) 



SECTION XLII. ^ 

Extreme brevity of style is a diminution of subH- 
mity ; for subhmity is mutilated, when contracted 
into too small a space ; but let not those things pro- 
perly contracted, be here understood ; but such as, on 



64 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



restrains the force of the mind, conciseness leads it 
straight forward. It is manifest then, on the other 
hand, that those things too much extended, are life- 
less ; being relaxed by their unreasonable length. 



SECTION XLIII. 

Meanness in the terms haa great power to debase 
the sublime ; thus in Herodotus, a tempest is divinely 
described, as far as the circumstances ; but it contains 
some expressions far inferior to the subject : (and this 
perhaps ^stfaa'Tjo' Trig ^aXa(i(Sy\g—'' the sea began to 
seeth" — since ^so'ao'Tjg takes away much of the sub- 
limity by its uncouth sound.) " At the same time," 
said he, " the wind sKQiria(jB was tired out, — and TsXog 
^XH^ — unpleasant end received those caught in 
the storm ; for the word " xoitia(fai — to be tired out," 
is without weight and even vulgar ; and " a%aji — ■ 
unpleasant " — not suited to so tragical an end. 
In the like manner, Theopompus preparing to de- 
scribe, in the most magnificent manner, the descent 
of the Persian into Egypt, has debased the whole, by 
vulgar terms. " For what city, or what nation in 
Asia, did not send embassies to the king ? what thing 
produced from the earth, or wrought by art ; what 
rare or precious thing, that was not brought, as a 
present, to him ? were not many rich carpets, and 
garments, partly purple, partly embroidered, partly 
white ; were not many golden tents brought, furnish- 
ed with* every thing useful ; were not many robes and 



LONGIXUS OX THE SUBLOIE. 



65 



sumptuous couches ; besides vessels of wrought silver 
and gold, bowls and cups ; some of which, you might 
see, set v/ith gems ; others beautifully and splendidly 
embossed; besides an infinite quantity of arms, partly 
Grecian, partly Barbarian ; and beasts of burden, 
surpassing number ; and victims designed for sacri- 
fice ; and in addition, many bushels of pickles and 
preserves, and many sacks and bags of books and 
paper, (a) and every other useful thing ; and so much 
pickled meat of all sorts of animals, that the heaps 
were so large, that those, who approached them from 
a distance, might fancy they were mounds or hills, 
which had been thrown up ?" 

He here sinks from the sublime to the low, when on 
the contrary, he ought to become elevated ; for blend- 
ing in his wonderful narrative of the entire prepara- 
tions, bags, pickles, sacks, he has given us the picture 
of a kitchen. For as, if any one, in the midst of 
those ornaments, golden vases, and goblets set with 
jewel, embossed silver, golden tents, and bottles, should 
bring and lay down bags and sacks, it would be an 
act, unseemly to the sight ; thus, such expressions are 
the disgrace of description, and become, in a manner, 
stains on it, when unseasonably introduced. But it 
was, in his power, to run over in a summary manner, 
what he says were collected heaps, and changing the 
expression, thus speak of the other preparations : — 
" There were camels, and a multitude of other beasts, 
carrying loads of all things, that contribute to luxury, 
and the enjoyment of the table or call them, heaps 
of all sorts of fruit and those things, best suited for an , 



66 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



elegant repast, or delicate living or if he wishedy 
(as he did) to lay down all things so precisely, he 
might even say, "all the dehcacies of cooks and ca- 
terers." For we must not, in the sublime, descend 
to sordid and blemished terms ; unless we are severely 
pressed, by some necessity ; but it is proper to have 
expressions corresponding to the actions, and to imi- 
tate nature, that formed man ; who neither placed 
those parts of us, which, it is indecent to mention, in 
view, nor the vents of the excrements ; but concealed 
them, as well as she was able ; and (according to 
Xenophon) removed their channels as far as possible, 
not to disfigure the beauty of the animal. But it is 
not necessary to enumerate individually the causes of 
a low style ; for having before pointed out those 
things, v/hich render writings sublime and noble, it is 
manifest, that their opposites will, for the most part, 
render writings low and inelegant. 



SECTION XLIV. 

This remains j which, on account of your fondness, 
for useful knowledge, I shall not be unwilHng to add, 
and state clearly what a certain philosopher lately made 
a subject of inquiry ; saying, " I am surprised, as are 
many others, how it happens, that, in our time, there 
are geniuses, gifted with persuasive powers to the 
highest degree, and well acquainted with the world, 
forcible and prompt, (a) and well stored with that spe- 
cies of writing, calculated to please, but are, by no 



LOXGIXrS ON THE SUBLniE, 



67 



means, very lofty and sublime ; (except some rare in- 
stance should occur ;) such a dearth of writings of this 
description is there in this age !" Are we to beheve,*' 
said he, that trite observation, that a democracy is 
the careful nurse of subHme minds, under which, al- 
most exclusively, those sublime writers flourished and 
died ]" Liberty, some one remarks, is adapted to 
nourish the thoughts of sublime writers, and draw forth, 
and urge on the ardor of mutual contest and strife for 
preeminence. Moreover, on account of the rewards 
proposed, in every democracy, the natural faculties of 
the minds of those orators are sharpened, by exercise ; 
and polished, as it were, by use, and as is natural, 
shine forth free, as their actions. But we of the pre- 
sent day, said he, seem from our childhood, taught to 
endure lawful servitude ; being swathed, I may nearly 
say, in its habits and customs, from our tender years ; 
and having never tasted of that noble and natural 
source of writing, I mean Liberty ; wherefore we go 
forth nothing but pompous flatterers. On this account 
it is, he used to say, that other faculties happen to 
slaves, but that no slave can be an orator ; for his ih 
Hberal and fettered spirit, beaten down and subdued 
by his constant habit of slavery, {h) always breaks 
out, for according to Homer, " the day or yoke of slavery 
takes away half the moral worth of man,^^ As, (if 
this, which 1 hear be true.) the cases, in which, those 
creatures, called Pygmies, are bred, not only prevent 
the growth of those enclosed, but even make them less, 
on account of the restraint, (c) placed on their bodies : — 
thus any person may call every servitude, though it 



68 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME. 



should be the most lawful, the case and public dungeon 
of the mind. 

Interrupting him, I replied, — My friend, it is easy 
and usual with man, always to censure the present. 
But consider whether the peace, over the world, does 
not corrupt great geniuses, or rather that constant 
war, (d) which keeps our minds in a state of siege, 
and besides, those passions, which keep-garrison - 
over the present age, and rushing from their hold, 
ruin and destroy us. 

For avarice, with which we are all incurably in- 
fected, and voluptuousness, enslave, or rather (as one 
may say) sink and overwhelm men and their fortunes. 
Avarice is a disease, which renders us abject ; volup- 
tuousness renders us debased. I cannot, on conside- 
ration, find how it is possible, that those, who value 
infinite wealth [e) so much, or to speak more truly, 
adore it, as their god, can avoid receiving those evils, 
connected with it, which enter the mind : for extra- 
vagance always follows immoderate and excessive 
wealth ; joined to, and keeping pace with, it : the lat- 
ter opening the entrance of cities, and houses, into 
which the former enters, and there dwells with it ; 
and when these have spent some time, in life, ihey 
build their nests (according to the philosophers) and 
soon, intent on issue, they beget arrogance, pride and 
luxury, not their spurious offspring, but truly legitim- 
ate. But if any one should permit those children of 
wealth to arrive at maturity, they quickly produce, 
in his mind, inexorable masters, insolence, injustice^ 
impudence. 



LONGINUS ON THE SUBLIME c 



69 



It is necessary 5 that those things should be thus, and 
that men should no longer raise their views, or have 
anxiety about fame ; (/) but that the corruption of 
such ages be entirely completed, by a gradual process^ 
and the sublimity of the soul fade and perish and be 
neglected ; since they admire their mortal senseless 
parts, neglecting to improve what is immortal. No 
one, bribed to a decision, can continue to be a free and 
upright judge of what is fair, and honest ; for it is ne- 
cessary for him, who receives the bribe, that his own 
should be the fair and honest side. 

Thus, in the same way, when bribes influence the 
whole course of our lives, and the expectation of ano- 
ther's death and designs laid for wills, (g) and when w^e 
purchase gain from every source, even at the hazard 
of our lives, reduced to slavery, each by his avarice, 
in such a contagious corruption of life, can we sup- 
pose, that there still remains any candid and uncor- 
rupted judge of what is truly sublime, and likely to 
last for ages, and that he is not influenced {h) by a 
desire of growing rich ? But consider whether it is 
not better for such as we are to be governed than be 
free ; since our desires, left quite at hberty, and,, as it 
were, let loose from their prison, on our neighbours, 
would deluge (^) the world with vice. 

In fine, I said, that sloth has been the destruction 
of the geniuses of the present day, in which, we all 
(with few exceptions) pass our hves, laboring and 
using exertion for no other motive than ostentation 
and pleasure, and not for any soUd advantage, which 
alone is worthy of emulation and praise. But it may 



70 LONGIINtJS ON THE SUBLIME. 

be better to omit these inquiries and proceed to the 
things, which follow ; these are the passions, about 
which we freely promised to write, in a separate trea- 
tise ; as, in my opinion, they constitute the ornamental 
part of writing, as well as a great portion of the sublime. 



Pearce's advice will be our best conclusion. *' Read over,'' 
says he, " very frequently this golden treatise, [deserving not 
only to be read, but to be imitated,] that you may not only 
understand how the best authors have written, but learn your- 
self to become an author of the first rank : then take up 
your pen, in the words of Nisus, and say, 

* * * Aliquid jamdudum invadere magnum 
Mens agitat mihi, nec placida contenta qiiiete est^^ 



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